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HARVARD   EPISODES 


BY 


CHARLES   MACOMB   FLANDRAU 


BOSTON 

COPELAND  AND   DAY 
MDCCCXCVII 


-\\-i- 


First  edition  (3500  copies)  November,  1897 
Second  edition  (5000  copies)  December,  1897 


COPYRIGHT  BY  COPELAND  AND  DAY,  1897 


To  W.  A. 

DEAR  W.  A.  I  have  written  about  a  very  little  corner 
of  a  very  great  place ;  but  one  that  we  knew  well,  and 
together. 

C.  M.  F. 


266639 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

THE  CHANCE  I 

THE  SERPENT'S  TOOTH  57 

WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT  77 

WELLINGTON  179 

BUTTERFLIES  2OI 

A  DEAD  ISSUE  249 

THE  CLASS  DAY  IDYL  2Q7 


Harvard    Episodes 

THE   CHANCE 

TWO  men  were  talking  in  a  room  in 
Claverly  Hall.  Horace  Hewitt,  the 
sophomore  who  owned  the  apartment, 
had  passed,  during  the  hour  with  his 
visitor,  from  the  state  in  which  conversa 
tion  is  merely  a  sort  of  listless  chaffing  to 
where  it  becomes  eager,  earnest,  and  per 
plexing.  The  other,  a  carefully  dressed, 
somewhat  older  young  man,  across  whose 
impassive,  intellectual  profile  a  pair  of  eye 
glasses  straddled  gingerly,  was  not,  per 
haps,  monopolising  more  than  his  share 
of  the  discussion,  for  Robinson  Curtiss 
was  the  kind  of  person  to  whom  a  large 
conversational  portion  was  universally 
conceded ;  but  he  was,  without  doubt, 
talking  with  a  continuance  and  an  air  of 
authority  that  unconsciously  had  become 
relentless.  Both  men  were  smoking: 
Hewitt,  a  sallow  meerschaum  pipe,  with 


2  HARVARD    EPISODES 

his  class  in  raised  letters  on  the  bowl ; 
Curtiss,  a  cigarette  he  had  taken  from  the 
metal  case  he  still  held  meditatively  in  his 
hand.  He  smoked  exceedingly  good 
cigarettes,  and  practised  the  thrifty  art  of 
always  discovering  just  one  in  his  case. 

"  So  you  think  my  college  life  from  an 
undergraduate's  standpoint,  and  it's  the 
only  standpoint  I  give  that  for," —  Hewitt 
snapped  his  fingers  impatiently,  —  "  will 
always  be  as  much  of  a  fizzle  as  it  has  so 
far  ?  "  He  had  jumped  up  from  the  big 
chair  in  which  he  had  all  along  been 
sprawling  and  stood  before  Robinson  in 
an  attitude  that  was  at  once  incredulous 
and  despairing.  The  momentary  embar 
rassment  that  Curtiss  felt  at  this  unex 
pected  show  of  feeling  on  the  part  of  his 
young  friend,  took  the  form  of  extreme 
deliberation  in  returning  his  cigarette-case 
to  his  pocket,  and  in  repeating  the  per 
formance  of  lighting  his  cigarette  that  had 
not  gone  out. 

He  had  not  been  a  graduate  quite  three 
years  in  all,  but  that  had  been  ample  time 
—  particularly  as  it  had  been  spent  far 
from  Cambridge  —  for  the  readjustment 
of  certain  views  of  his,  —  views  in  which 


THE   CHANCE  3 

four  eventful  years  at  college  had  been 
grotesquely  prominent.  He  found,  on 
returning  to  the  university  town,  that  his 
absence  rendered  him  frequently  indiffer 
ent  to  the  genuineness  and  importance, 
not  merely  of  the  more  delicate  problems 
of  the  undergraduate  world,  —  it  was  one 
of  these  on  which  he  was  at  the  present 
moment  indiscreetly  touching, —  but  even 
to  the  obvious  and  common  incidents  of 
the  academic  experience :  to  the  outcome 
of  examinations,  to  the  degree  of  Bache 
lor  of  Arts.  It  was  not  until  Hewitt 
stood  troubled  and  expectant  before  him 
that  Curtiss  appreciated  how  tactless  the 
disparity  in  their  knowledge  of  things 
collegiate  had  made  him  appear  to  his 
young  friend.  A  sudden  reminiscent  in 
tuition,  that  flashed  him  back  to  his  own 
sophomore  year,  caused  him  to  feel  that 
what  he  was  saying  to  Hewitt  was  almost 
brutal ;  in  his  capacity  of  a  young  gradu 
ate  he  had  indulged  in  a  cold-blooded  lec 
ture  (it  could  hardly  be  called  a  discussion) 
on  questions  that  very  properly  were  not 
questions  to  a  fellow  in  Hewitt's  situation, 
but  warm,  operative  realities.  Hewitt  was 
in  many  ways  such  a  mature  young  person, 


4  HARVARD    EPISODES 

his  valuation  of  other  people  and  their 
actions  had  always  seemed  so  temperate, 
so  just,  that  Curtiss,  without  knowing  it, 
had  simply  ignored  the  fellow's  healthy 
undergraduate  attitude.  He  had  failed  to 
assume  how  eager  the  sophomore  was  to 
be  some  active  part  of  the  new  and  fasci 
nating  life  going  on  everywhere  about 
him ;  how  completely  he  was  possessed 
by  the  indefinable,  disquieting,  stimulative 
spirit  that  so  triumphantly  inhibits  Har 
vard  from  becoming  a  mere  place  of  learn 
ing.  Curtiss  had  spent  the  evening  in 
throwing  what  he  sincerely  believed  was  a 
searching  light  on  some  aspects  of  Har 
vard  life ;  he  was  beginning  to  wish  he 
had  allowed  Hewitt  to  perform  the  office 
for  himself. 

"  Be  honest  with  me,  Curtiss."  Hewitt 
spoke  in  the  distinct,  simple  tones  that  as 
a  rule  accompany  words  one  hesitates  to 
trifle  with.  "You've  gone  through  the 
whole  damn  thing  yourself,  and  got  more 
out  Of  it  —  not  more  than  you  deserve, 
of  course,  but  more  than  most  men  get ; 
you  knew  everybody  and  belonged  to  — 

to "      Hewitt  hesitated  a  moment ;  any 

single  college  institution  —  social,  athletic, 


THE   CHANCE  5 

or  intellectual  —  did  not  in  itself  forcibly 
appeal  to  him  ;  there  was  something  petty 
in  particularising.  "  You  belonged  to  — 
to  everything,  when  you  were  in  college/' 
he  finally  said  ;  "  how  was  it  done  —  how 
is  it  done  every  day  ?  I  see  it  going  on 
around  me  all  the  time;  but  I  can't  touch 
it  in  any  way,  —  it  never  comes  near 
enough,  if  you  know  what  I  mean ;  and 
what  I  can't  explain  to  myself  is  that 
I  don't  see  why  it  should  come  any  nearer 
to  me,  —  only,  I  want  it  to."  The  man 
ner  in  which  Horace  blurted  out  the  last 
few  words  was  an  epitome  of  the  situation  ; 
their  confession  of  keen  longing  to  know 
and  be  known  in  his  class  had  gathered  in 
tensity  with  the  growing  suspicion  that  cer 
tain  conditions  of  the  place  —  conditions 
he  felt  rather  than  understood  — were  every 
day  making  the  realisation  of  his  desire 
for  activity,  acquaintances,  friendship,  more 
impossible.  His  great  common  sense  — 
in  Hewitt  the  quality  amounted  to  a  sort 
of  prosaic  talent  —  would  always  preclude 
his  'degenerating  into  one  of  the  impo- 
tently  rebellious;  it  had  kept  him  free 
from  the  slightest  tinge  of  bitterness 
toward  any  one,  but  it  had  not  made  his 


6  HARVARD    EPISODES 

interminable,  solitary  walks  up  Brattle 
Street  (there  was  apparently  no  other  walk 
to  take  in  Cambridge)  less  interminable ; 
it  had  enlivened  none  of  the  stolid  even 
ings  in  his  rooms  which,  with  a  necessary 
amount  of  study,  a  chapter  or  two  from 
some  book  he  did  not  much  care  about, 
and  a  bottle  of  beer,  always  came  to  an  end 
somehow  or  other  in  spite  of  themselves ; 
it  had  not  invested  stupid  theatres  with 
interest,  nor  mediocre  athletics  with  excite 
ment.  Common  sense,  the  prevailing 
trait  of  Hewitt's  character,  that  induced 
the  middle-aged  to  consider  him  "  singu 
larly  well  balanced  for  a  young  man,"  was 
quite  powerless  to  dispel  the  desperate 
loneliness  of  his  sophomore  year.  His 
common  sense  was  a  coat  of  mail  that  de 
fied  sabre  thrusts,  perhaps,  but  let  in  the 
rain. 

"  You  know  everything,  Rob,"  Hewitt 
smiled ;  he  had  after  all  no  wish  to  appear 
emotional.  "  Is  there  something  the  mat 
ter  with  me,  or  with  Harvard,  that  has  kept 
me  what  you  very  well  know  I  am  —  an 
isolated  nonentity  who  has  rather  begun 
to  lose  hope?  Are  there  other  fellows  in 
college  who  are  gentlemen,  and  used  to  all 


THE   CHANCE  7 

the  word  implies,  but  who  might  be  in  any 
one  of  the  fifteen  leading  universities  of 
Kansas,  for  all  the  good  they  are  getting 
out  of  this  place  ?  If  I  had  only  been 
given  a  chance  —  "  he  broke  out  with  sud 
den  vehemence,  —  "a good,  square  chance, 
the  kind  a  man  has  a  right  to  expect  when 
he  enters  college  —  to  meet  my  equals 
equally  —  to  make  myself  felt  and  liked 
if  I  had  the  power  to,  why  I  should  n't 
mind  failing,  you  know,  not  in  the  least; 
a  man  who  is  n't  an  ass  accepts  chronic 
unpopularity  as  he  does  chronic  red  hair, 
or  any  other  personal  calamity."  Hewitt's 
own  locks  had  sufficient  colour  to  lend 
authority  to  his  statement.  cc  It  is  n't 
that  —  it 's  the  utter  impossibility,  as  far 
as  I  can  see,  of  a  boy  who  came  here  as 
I  did,  getting  a  fair  trial.  Every  day  I 
am  more  and  more  convinced  that  my 
prospects  for  the  broad,  enlightening  sort 
of  existence  I  expected  to  find  on  enter 
ing  Harvard  were  about  as  definite  and 
as  brilliant  as  the  prospects  of  a  stillborn 
child  on  entering  the  world.  What 's  the 
matter  ?  What 's  wrong  ?  Who  's  to 
blame  ?  " 

There  was  an  admirable  force  to  Hewitt's 


8  HARVARD    EPISODES 

manner  when  he  was  thoroughly  in  earn 
est  that,  as  a  rule,  roused  even  in  Cur- 
tiss  a  vague  apprehension  that  sincerity 
was,  somehow,  obligatory.  It  did  not 
restrain  him,  however,  from  assuming 
an  expression  of  mock  helplessness  and 
murmuring,  — 

"  It  's  so  long  —  so  intricate." 

"  If  people  only  knew  what  they  were  in 
for  before  they  came,"  Hewitt  continued. 

"  Maybe  they  would  n't  come,"  sug 
gested  the  other. 

"  Of  course  they  'd  come,  —  the  place 
is  too  great,  —  they  could  n't  afford  to  stay 
away."  Horace  passed  over  the  axioms 
with  the  impatience  of  one  who  has  prob 
lems  to  solve.  "  Of  course  they  would 
come,"  he  repeated ;  "  but  they  would 
come  with  their  eyes  opened  —  they 
would  know  what  not  to  expect ;  that 's 
the  important  thing." 

"Ah,  but  who  could  do  it?  Who 
would  do  it  ?  It  would  be  like  assisting 
a  new  kitten  to  see  by  means  of  a  pin. 
We  must  all  work  out  our  own  salvations," 
Curtiss  added  sententiously. 

"  That  brings  it  right  round  to  my 
point  again,"  exclaimed  Hewitt.  "Of 


THE    CHANCE  9 

course  every  man  wants  to  £  work  out  his 
own  salvation/  as  you  put  it ;  but  at  Har 
vard  I  don't  think  it 's  every  man  who  is 
given  the  opportunity  to.  He  does  n't 
know  that  before  he  comes,  he  does  n't 
find  it  out  for  some  time  after  he  gets 
here ;  but  it 's  true,  and  it 's  precisely 
what  I  want  you  to  tell  me  about  —  to 
explain."  There  was  but  a  faint  note  of 
triumph  in  Hewitt's  voice ;  he  realised 
that  he  had  Curtiss  in  a  corner,  but  he 
had  not  been  conscious  of  manoeuvring  to 
get  him  there.  "  Tell  me  this  :  Do  you 
think  that  Harvard  —  and  by  that  I  don't 
mean  the  Officers  of  Instruction  and  Gov 
ernment,  they're  the  least  of  it  —  do  you 
think  that  Harvard  is  fair,  and  do  you 
think  that  it  is  American  ?  " 

There  was  something  so  general,  so 
meaningless,  so  senatorial  in  the  appli 
cation  of  Hewitt's  final  word  that  Cur 
tiss  was  surprised  into  a  shout  of  laughter. 

"  Whether  it 's  fair  or  not,  depends  on 
who  's  telling  you  about  it,"  he  said  gravely 
enough  ;  "  but  there 's  no  question  as  to 
its  nationality,"  he  laughed  again;  "of 
course  it 's  American,  horribly  American, 
deliciously  American  !  " 


io  HARVARD    EPISODES 

Hewitt  puckered  his  forehead  and  waited 
for  more  ;  he  did  not  in  the  least  under 
stand. 

"  When  I  say  American,  I  don't  mean 
what  you  mean  ;  because  —  pardon  me  for 
saying  it  —  you  don't  mean  anything." 
Curtiss  found  it  suddenly  easy  to  rattle 
on  as  he  had  been  doing  earlier  in  the 
evening ;  his  laugh  had  cleared  the  atmos 
phere.  "  My  dear  fellow,"  he  said, 
"  Harvard  University  possesses  its  labour 
ing  class,  its  middle  class,  and  its  aristoc 
racy,  as  sharply,  as  inevitably,  as  —  as  —  " 
he  was  about  to  draw  a  rather  over-em 
phatic  comparison  between  Harvard  and 
the  social  orders  of  Sparta  in  the  days  of 
Lycurgus,  when  Hewitt,  still  puzzled, 
broke  in  with, — 

"  But  if  that 's  the  case,  it  is  n't  Ameri 
can  at  all  --  you  contradict  yourself  in  the 
same  breath." 

"  I  assumed  that  you  knew  more  about 
your  own  country,"  Curtiss  remarked  with 
dry  superiority  ;  "  I  sha'n't  undertake  to 
discuss  the  social  system  of  the  United 
States ;  it  would  simply  necessitate  my 
going  over  a  lot  of  platitudes  that  would 
bore  us  both.  It 's  only  when  we  apply 


THE   CHANCE  n 

to  our  college,  what  we  all  know  to  be  so 
undeniable  of  the  country  at  large,  that 
the  situation  at  once  becomes  novel  and 
preposterous  to  so  many  people.  The 
conventional  idea  of  an  American  college 
—  you  know  this  because  the  idea  was 
yours  before  you  came  here  —  is  that  it 
consists  of  a  multitude  of  lusty  young 
men  linked  together  by  the  indissoluble 
bonds  of  class  and  college,  all  striving, 
shoulder  to  shoulder,  for  the  same  ends, 
in  a  general  way, — just  what  the  ends  are 
I  don't  think  the  public  cares  very  much, 
but  they  're  presumably  charmingly  un 
practical  and  fine, —  and  living  in  an  intoxi 
cating  atmosphere  of  intimacy,  a  robust 
sense  of  loyalty  that  is  supposed  to  per 
vade  the  academic  groves  and  render  them 
the  temporary  home  of  a  great,  light- 
hearted,  impulsive,  congenial  brotherhood. 
Well,  I  don't  know  whether  other  Ameri 
can  institutions  of  learning  answer  the  de 
scription,  because  I  've  never  been  to  them ; 
but  Harvard  does  n't,  not  in  the  slightest 
particular." 

"Then  I  wish  it  wouldn't  attempt  to," 
murmured  Hewitt. 

"  There  is  no  attempt/'  answered  Cur- 


12  HARVARD    EPISODES 

tiss  ;  "  there  is  merely  a  pretence, —  a  pre 
tence  that,  strangely  enough,  is  n't  meant 
to  deceive  any  one.  We  find  it  in  the 
na'ive  untruthfulness  of  the  college  papers, 
in  the  eloquent  conventionality  of  the 
Class  Day  Orators ;  the  college  press 
prattles  about  ( class  feeling '  and  all  the 
other  feelings  that  none  of  us,  since  the 
place  has  grown  so  large,  has  ever  felt ; 
the  orator's  sentiments  bear  about  the 
same  relation  to  real  life  that  his  gestures 
do :  he  has  a  lot  to  say  about  everybody's 
sitting  together  at  the  feet  of  the  Alma 
Mater ;  but  he  does  n't  dwell  at  all  on 
those  of  us  who  have  been  cuddled  in  her 
lap.  That 's  what  I  mean  when  I  say 
the  place  is  consistently  c  American/ ' 
Curtiss  got  up  and  took  a  meditative  turn 
about  the  room.  "  The  undergraduate 
body  faithfully  reproduces,  in  little,  the 
social  orders  of  the  whole  country,  and 
not  only  never  formally  recognises  their 
existence,  but  takes  occasion,  every  now 
and  then,  somewhat  elaborately,  to  deny 
it,  —  a  proceeding  that  of  course  does  n't 
change  any  one's  position  or  make  any  one 
happier.  c  Fine  words,'  indeed,  never  '  but 
tered  the  parsnips '  of  so  sophisticated  a 


THE    CHANCE  13 

crowd  as  you  discover  at  Harvard  ;  but 
if  an  American  community  finds  it  impos 
sible,  by  reason  of  all  the  thousand  and 
one  artificial  conditions  that  make  such 
things  impossible,  to  be  c  free  and  equal/ 
what  is  left  for  the  distracted  concern  to 
do,  but  flaunt  its  freedom  and  its  equality, 
from  time  to  time,  in  theory  ?  " 

"  It 's  all  wrong  then  —  frightfully 
wrong,"  declared  Hewitt,  with  considerable 
heat.  He  had  been  increasingly  irritated 
through  the  calm  progress  of  Curtiss's 
discourse,  and  now  stood  with  his  back 
to  the  fire-place,  staring  fixedly  before  him, 
—  a  spirited  figure  of  protest.  "We're 
too  young  at  college  for  that  kind  of  rot," 
he  went  on  emphatically  ;  "  where,  in  the 
name  of  Heaven,  can  a  fellow  expect  square 
treatment,  if  it  is  n't  right  here  among 
what,  just  now,  you  scornfully  called  c  a 
multitude  of  lusty  young  men '  ?  They 
ought  to  be  too  young  and  too  lusty  and 
too  good  fellows  to  care  —  even  to  know 
about  —  about  —  all  that."  His  words 
tumbled  out  noisily,  and  had  the  effect 
of  noticeably  increasing  Robinson's  delib- 
erateness. 

"The    situation   would    be   in  no   way 


i4  HARVARD    EPISODES 

remarkable,  if  it  were  not  for  just  that  fact, 
—  our  extreme  youth,"  Curtiss  spoke  as  if 
he  were  still  in  college.  "  It 's  taken  rather 
for  granted  that  young  men,  who  are  de 
lightful  in  so  many  ways,  are  the  com 
plete  embodiment,  when  chance  herds 
them  together,  of  the  c  hale-fellow-well- 
met-God-bless-everybody '  ideal  a  lot  of 
people  seem  to  have  of  them.  The  plain 
truth  of  the  matter  is,  that  at  Harvard, 
at  least,  they  are  n't  at  all.  Wander  a 
moment  from  the  one  royal  road  we  all 
try  to  prance  along  in  common  here,  and 
you  '11  find  most  of  us  picking  our  way 
in  very  much  the  same  varied  paths  we 
are  destined  to  follow  later  on.  The  only 
wonder  is  that  we  should  have  found  them 
so  soon.  What  makes  people's  hair  stand 
on  end  is  that  young  America  should 
begin  to  classify  himself  so  instinctively  — 
the  crystallisation  of  the  social  idea 
seems,  to  put  it  mildly,  a  trifle  premature. 
But"  —  Curtiss's  shrug  comprehended 
many  things  —  "  what  are  you  going  to 
do  about  it  ?  " 

The  question  was  perfectly  general  in 
intention,  and  might  have  ended  the  dis 
cussion  had  not  Hewitt  regarded  it  as 


THE    CHANCE  15 

the  natural  expression  of  Curtiss's  interest 
in  his  ambitions  for  a  more  diverting 
existence. 

"And  yet,  after  all,  I  am  a  gentleman 
as  well  as  they,"  he  said  simply. 

There  was  something  exquisitely  in 
telligible  to  the  graduate  in  the  very 
vagueness  of  the  boy's  pronoun.  "  They," 
—  he  too,  in  the  early  forlornness  of  his 
college  life,  had  been  eagerly  aware  of 
them,  —  the  great  creatures,  who,  for  some 
reason  or  other  (not  always  a  transparent 
one),  seemed  to  emerge  with  such  enviable 
distinction  from  the  vast  mediocrity  of 
the  crowd  ;  "  They  "  who  put  on  aston 
ishing  black  coats  and  spent  Sunday  after 
noon  in  town;  "They  "who  so  frequently 
wore  little  crimson  usher's  badges  at  the 
games,  and  bowed  to  so  many  of  the  at 
tractive  people  they  showed  to  their  seats  ; 
"  They  "  who,  fine  shouldered  and  brown 
from  rowing  on  the  crews,  seemed  to  en 
dure  their  education  with  such  splendid 
listlessness  ;  "  They "  whom  he  had  so 
often  heard  rattling  into  the  suburban 
stillness  of  Cambridge  just  before  dawn, 
from  some  fine  dance  in  town.  How  un 
mistakable  they  were  in  the  class-room, 


16  HARVARD    EPISODES 

at  a  football  game,  the  theatre,  —  every 
where  ;  how  instinctively  they  seemed  to 
know  one  another,  and  how  inevitably 
they  came  to  be  felt  in  every  class  as 
something,  if  not  exactly  apart,  at  least 
aloof.  Curtiss  stared  musingly  at  the 
fire  a  moment,  and  smiled  as  he  recalled 
the  various  trivial  circumstances  that,  in 
his  own  case,  gradually,  and  with  none  of 
the  excitement  of  a  conscious  transition, 
had  brought  about  the  substitution  of  a 
perfectly  natural,  matter-of-fact  "  We," 
for  the  once  tacitly  understood  but  exas 
perating  "  They."  For  a  moment  he 
thought  of  asking  Hewitt  to  explain  him 
self;  he  had  a  freakish  desire  to  see  the 
fellow  flounder  in  the  effort  to  be  clear, 
without  becoming  pitifully  transparent ; 
however,  he  thought  better  of  it,  and  only 
answered  with  some  impatience,  — 

"  Of  course  you  're  as  much  of  a  gen 
tleman  as  any  one  ;  but  that  —  except 
very,  very  superficially  —  is  n't  the  ques 
tion."  Curtiss  was  beginning  to  feel 
like  a  hoary  old  oracle.  "  There  's  noth 
ing  strange  or  tragic  in  your  situation  ; 
it 's  shared  by  lots  of  other  fellows  in  col 
lege,"  he  went  on ;  "  you  slipped  into 


THE    CHANCE  17 

Harvard  as  soon   as  your  tutor  thought 
you  were  ready  to,  and,  as  you  came  from 
a    rather    obscure    place,  you    slipped    in 
quite    alone.     A    year    and    a    half  have 
dragged  themselves  through  the  vagaries 
of    the     Cambridge     climate  ;     you     are 
still,  broadly  speaking,  quite  alone.     Yet 
all  this  time  you  have  been   sensitive  — 
keenly  so  —  to  the  life  that  is  being  lived 
everywhere  around  you,  and  you  begin  to 
feel  about  as  essential  to  the  drama  as  a 
freshman  does  when  he  puts  on  a  some 
what  soiled  court  costume  and  assists  Sir 
Henry   Irving  in  one  of  his    interesting 
productions.     The  trouble  with  you  and 
every  one   like  you  is  simply   this  :   you 
did  n't  come  to  Harvard  from  a  prepara 
tory   school   with  a  lot  of  acquaintances 
and  some  friends ;  you  did  n't  come  from 
any  of  the   few  big  towns  that  annually 
send  a  number  of  fellows  who  know,  or 
who  at  least  have  heard,  of  one  another  ; 
you    are    athletic,    perhaps,    but    scarcely 
what  one  would  call  an  athlete  —  although 
I  confess,  that  is  n't  of  much  consequence  ; 
we  don't,  as    a  rule,  reward  athletes   for 
being  athletes.      If  they  perform  well,  we 
applaud  them.     At  Harvard,  athletics  are 


i8  HARVARD    EPISODES 

occasionally  a  means  to  a  man's  becoming 
identified  with  the  sort  of  people  he 
wishes  to  be  one  of;  but  I  have  never 
known  them  to  be  an  end.  Finally,  you 
are  not  a  Bostonian,  and  when  I  say  c  a 
Bostonian,'  "  —  Curtiss  removed  his  glasses 
and  softly  polished  them  with  his  hand 
kerchief,  — cc  when  I  say  c  a  Bostonian/  ' 
he  repeated  with  the  gentlest  of  satire,  "  I 
mean  of  course  a  Bostonian  that  one 
knows. 

"  Now,  although  you  are  doubtless  a 
great  many  interesting  and  attractive 
things,  you  do  not  happen  to  be  any  one 
of  those  I  have  just  named  ;  and  it  is  from 
the  men  who  are,  that  the  crowd  destined 
to  be  of  importance  in  college  —  the 
fellows  who  are  going  to  lead,  who  are 
going  to  be  felt  —  whatever  you  choose  to 
call  it  —  will  generally  originate.  Think 
of  your  own  class  for  a  moment,  and,  nine 
times  out  of  ten,  the  men  that  you  feel 
would  be  congenial  as  well  as  interesting, 
if  you  knew  them,  are  taken  from  the 
sort  of  men  I  Ve  specified." 

"  Nine  times  out  of  ten  ! "  Hewitt 
laughed  hopelessly,  "  who  the  devil  is  the 
tenth  man  ? " 


THE    CHANCE  19 

"  Why,  you  are,  of  course,  —  or  you 
will  be,"  said  Curtiss,  gaily.  "I  was  my 
self,  once  upon  a  time.  It 's  good  fun 
too  ;  my  little  c  boom  '  was  a  trifle  belated 
—  the  tenth  man's  usually  is;  but  it 
only  seems  to  make  the  more  noise  for 
going  off  all  by  itself;  while  it  lasts  you 
almost  feel  as  if  people  were  being  super 
latively  nice  to  you  in  order  to  make  up 
for  lost  time.  Nine  times  out  of  ten 
though  "  — the  sweeping  phrase  was  be 
ginning  to  assume  the  dignity  of  a  for 
mula  —  "  it 's  the  other  way.  The  f  tenth 
man '  at  Harvard  would  never  have 
escaped  from  his  obscurity  and  compara 
tive  isolation  to  become  the  c  tenth  man/ 
if  it  were  not  for  something  that  seems 
very  much  like  chance." 

"  How  is  a  fellow  going  to  find  his 
chance  in  a  place  like  this  ? "  Hewitt  ex 
claimed  scornfully.  "  Do  you  suppose,  if  I 
knew  where  to  look  for  it,  that  I  would  n't 
run  out  to  meet  it  more  than  half  way  ?  " 

"  Unfortunately  it 's  the  chances  that 
usually  seek  the  introduction,"  answered 
Robinson,  oracularly. 

"You  mean  to  say  then,  in  all  serious 
ness,  that  a  man  —  a  gentleman  —  who 


20  HARVARD    EPISODES 

comes  here  as  I  did,  has  no  reason  to  ex 
pect  that,  as  a  matter  of  course,  his  friends 
will  be  the  kind  of  people  he  's  been  used 
to  at  home ;  that  instead  of  at  once  find 
ing  his  own  level,  he  has  to  sit  twirling 
his  thumbs  and  waiting  for  the  improbable 
to  happen  —  which  it  perhaps  does  n't  do 
in  the  course  of  four  years  ?  "  Hewitt  was 
scornful,  incredulous,  defiant. 

"He  is  at  perfect  liberty  to  hope,"  said 
the  graduate,  quietly ;  "  but  I  can't  see 
that  he  has  the  slightest  reason  to  expect. 
As  for  c  twirling  his  thumbs,'  I  think  he 
might  be  better  employed  if  he  spent  his 
spare  time  in  going  in  for  foot-ball  and 
glee  clubs  and  the  c  Lampoon  '  and  the 
hundred  yards'  dash,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing ;  they  bring  your  name  before  the 
college  public  —  make  you  known  and 
definite,  and  in  that  way  widen  the 
possibilities." 

"  Then  I  can't  see  that  college  is  very 
different  from  any  place  else  —  from  the 
outside  world,"  said  Hewitt,  disappoint 
edly.  Curtiss  had  taken  considerable  pains 
to  tell  him  as  much  some  time  before ;  but 
with  Hewitt  mere  information  frequently 
failed  in  its  mission ;  he  was  the  sort  of 


THE   CHANCE  21 

person  whom  to  convince,  one  was  first 
obliged  to  ensnare  into  believing  that  he 
had  arrived  at  conviction  unaided. 

"  No,  it  is  n't  different ;  that  is  to  say. 
Harvard  is  n't,"  assented  Curtiss ;  cc  ex 
cept  that  it  is  smaller,  younger  and  pos 
sesses  its  distinctly  local  atmosphere." 

"  Then  coming  here,  under  certain  cir 
cumstances,  may  be  like  going  to  a  strange 
town  and  living  in  a  hotel." 

"  Both  ventures  have  been  known  to 
resemble  each  other." 

"  And  it 's  about  as  sensible  to  sup 
pose  that  your  fellow  students  are  going 
to  take  any  notice  of  you,  as  it  would 
be  to  expect  people  you  had  never  met 
to  lean  out  of  their  front  windows  and 
ask  you  to  dinner  if  you  were  to  stroll 
down  the  Avenue  some  fine  evening." 
Hewitt's  manner  had  become  grim  and 
facetious. 

"  You  seem  to  have  grasped  the  ele 
ments  of  the  situation,"  said  Curtiss. 

"  The  system  is  certainly  unique," 
mused  Hewitt. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Robinson,  "  other 
colleges  have  societies ;  whereas  Harvard 
unquestionably  has  Society." 


22  HARVARD    EPISODES 

"  Do  you  consider  the  place    snobbish 
then  ?  "  asked  Horace. 

The  graduate  thought  a  moment  be 
fore  answering.  "  I  object  to  the  word/' 
he  said  at  last ;  "  it 's  as  easy  to  say,  as 
vague  and  denunciatory,  as  c vulgar'  or 
'selfish'  or  any  of  those  hardworked 
terms  we  apply  to  other  people ;  you  can 
only  say  that,  making  some  necessary 
allowances  for  a  few  purely  local  customs, 
Harvard  society  is  influenced,  or  guided, 
or  governed,  as  you  please  to  express 
it,  by  about  the  same  conventions  that 
obtain  in  other  civilised  communities. 
Lots  of  people  who  have  only  a  news 
paper  acquaintance  with  the  place  think 
that  wealth  is  the  only  requisite  here. 
They  have  an  affection  for  the  phrase  c  a 
rich  man's  college,'  —  whatever  that  may 
mean.  But  of  course  all  that  is  absurd  to 
any  one  who  has  spent  four  years  in  the 
place,  and  has  known  all  the  fellows  with 
no  allowances  to  speak  of  who  are  wel 
come  in  pretty  much  everything ;  and  has 
seen  all  the  bemillioned  nonentities  who 
languish  through  college  in  a  sort^  of 
richly  upholstered  isolation.  c  Birth'  is 
certainly  not  the  open  sesame  ;  a  superficial 


THE   CHANCE  23 

inquiry  into  the  shop  and  inn  keeping  ante 
cedents  of  some  of  our  most  prominent 
and  altogether  charming  brothers,  smashes 
that  little  illusion.  I  'm  not  a  sociologist, 
and  I  don't  pretend  to  know  what  consti 
tutes  society  with  a  big  S — to  put  it  vul 
garly  —  here  or  any  place  else.  But  there 
is  such  a  thing  here  more  than  in  any 
other  college.  An  outsider,  hearing  me 
talk  this  way,  would  say  I  was  making  an 
unnecessarily  large  mountain  out  of  a  very 
ordinary  molehill.  But  that 's  because  he 
would  n't  understand  that  Society  at  Har 
vard  is  really  the  most  important  issue 
in  undergraduate  life.  The  comparatively 
few  men  who  compose  it,  have  it  in 
their  power  to  take  hold  of  anything  they 
choose  to  be  interested  in,  and  run  it  ac 
cording  to  their  own  ideas  —  which  shows 
the  value  of  even  a  rather  vague  form  of 
organisation.  Fortunately,  their  ideas  are 

food  ones,  —  clean  and  manly.     You  all 
nd  out  the  truth  of  this,  sooner  or  later. 
Then  if  you  have  n't  a  good  time,  I  sup 
pose  you  can  go  away  and  call  the   place 
snobbish  —  lots  of  people  do." 

"  I  don't  think  that 's  my  style  exactly, 
and  I   wish  you  would  n't  take  that  tone 


24  HARVARD    EPISODES 

about  it.  I  want  to  know  fellows,  of 
course :  fellows  like  Philip  Haydock  and 
Endicott  Davis  and  Philip  Irving  and 
'  Peter '  Bradley  and  Sherman  and  Pres- 
cott,"  said  Hewitt,  frankly,  naming  six  of 
the  most  prominent  men  in  his  class  ;  "  but 
I  can't  imagine  myself  thinking  worse 
of  any  of  them  if — if — " 

"  If  you  never  do  get  to  know  them," 
Curtiss  broke  in  ;  "  if  your  chance  fails  to 
materialise  —  if,  after  all,  you  are  not  the 
f  tenth  man/  '  He  got  up  as  if  to  leave. 

"  I  wish  you  would  n't  go,"  said  the 
other,  earnestly  ;  "  there  're  lots  of  things  I 
want  to  ask  you  about.  What  have  men 
like  Bradley  and  Davis  ever  done  here  to 
be  what  they  are  ?  "  he  went  on  hurriedly. 

"  Ask  me  something  hard,"  laughed 
Curtiss,  giving  Hewitt  his  overcoat  to  hold 
for  him.  "  They  have  n't  '  done  '  any 
thing,"  he  continued,  struggling  into  his 
sleeves ;  "  I  don't  suppose  they  would  know 
how  to.  Fellows  like  Bradley  and  Davis 
simply  arrive  at  Harvard  when  they  are 
due,  to  fill,  in  their  characteristic  way,  the 
various  pleasant  places  that  have  been  wait 
ing  the  last  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  for 
them.  From  the  little  I  've  seen  of  them,  I 


THE   CHANCE  25 

should  say  that  these  particular  two  happen 
to  be  the  kind  it  would  be  a  pleasure  to 
know  anywhere,  which  isn't  always  the 
case  with  the  c  Bradleys  '  and  the  '  Davises ' 
of  college.  So,  of  course,  you  want  to 
know  them,"  he  ended,  emphatically. 
"  What  we  've  been  calling  your  c  chance ' 
literally  consists  in  fellows  like  these  hold 
ing  out  their  hands  and  saying  simply, 
£  Come  and  see  me/ "  As  Curtiss  said 
this,  he  impressively  extended  his  own 
hand ;  Hewitt  shook  it,  absently,  and  be 
gan  with  some  abruptness  to  talk  of  other 
things. 

He  was,  all  at  once,  exceedingly  glad 
that  his  guest  was  saying  good-night.  It 
was  a  positive  relief  to  hear  his  footsteps 
resounding  in  the  long  corridor  outside, 
and  to  feel  the  slight  tremor  of  the  build 
ing  as  the  massive  front  door  closed  with 
a  thump  ;  for  Curtiss  had  become,  although 
perhaps  unwillingly,  that  most  objection 
able  person,  the  recipient  of  one's  impul 
sive  confidence. 

After  he  had  gone,  Hewitt  stood  a  mo 
ment,  looking  undecidedly  at  the  glass 
clock  on  his  mantelpiece.  It  was  long 
after  midnight,  and  he  was  in  the  state  of 


26  HARVARD    EPISODES 

mind  when  even  the  oblivion  of  bed  is 
numbered  among  sweet  but  unattainable 
ambitions.  He  was  tired  of  his  own 
room  ;  the  good  taste  that  had  been 
expended  on  it  had,  of  late,  begun  to 
strike  him  as  inexpressibly  futile.  Yet 
there  was  scarcely  any  one  on  whom  he 
could  drop  in,  even  at  a  reasonable  time 
of  night,  with  the  objectless  familiarity  of 
college  intercourse,  to  say  nothing  of  call 
ing  out  under  a  lighted  window  in  the 
small  hours  of  the  morning.  He,  of 
course,  belonged  to  no  college  club,  so  his 
evening  expeditions  were  of  necessity  lim 
ited  by  the  theatres  in  town,  or  the  listless 
thoroughfares  of  Cambridge.  He  often 
took  long,  aimless  strolls  through  streets 
he  barely  looked  at,  and  whose  names  he 
did  n't  know.  It  was  with  the  intention 
of  walking  now,  that  he  put  on  a  cap, 
turned  out  the  lights,  and  left  his  room. 

The  season  was  that  which  precedes  the 
first  atmospheric  intimations  of  spring. 
The  snow  had  gone,  and  the  ground  was 
dry,  and  everything  that  was  shabby  and 
stark  and  colourless  in  Cambridge  was 
admitting  its  inestimable  obligation  in  the 
past  to  the  loveliness  of  foliage.  There 


THE   CHANCE  27 

was  little  of  the  sympathetic  mystery  of 
night  in  the  long  street  in  which  Hewitt 
found  himself  on  leaving  his  building ;  its 
lines  of  irregular  wooden  houses,  aggres 
sive  with  painty  reflections  of  the  dazzling 
arc-lights  swung  at  intervals  overhead, 
stretched  away  in  distinct  and  uninviting 
perspective.  Except  where  the  gaslit  side- 
streets  yawned  murkily  down  to  the  river, 
Cambridge  was  hideous  in  the  rectilinear 
nakedness  of  March.  The  university 
town  is,  as  a  rule,  so  very  still  after  twelve 
o'clock  that  its  occasional  sounds  come  to 
have  an  individuality  to  one  who  prowls 
about,  that  the  sounds  of  day  do  not  pos 
sess.  Intent  as  he  was  in  pondering  over 
the  disheartening  things  Curtiss  had  been 
saying  to  him,  Hewitt's  ears  were  keen,  as 
he  sauntered  up  the  street  with  his  hands 
in  his  pockets,  to  all  the  night  noises  he 
had  learned  to  know  so  well.  A  student 
in  a  ground-floor  room  ablaze  with  light 
was  reading  aloud.  Horace  stopped  a 
moment,  and  laughed  at  the  sleepy  voice 
droning  wearily  through  the  open  win 
dow,  —  some  one  was  taking  his  education 
hard.  A  policeman,  half  a  block  ahead  of 
him,  was  advancing  slowly  down  the  street 


28  HARVARD   EPISODES 

by  a  series  of  stealthy  disappearances  into 
shadowed  doorways ;  Hewitt  could  hear 
him  rattle  the  doorknobs  before  he 
emerged  again  to  glitter  a  moment  under 
the  electric  light ;  a  car  that  had  left  town 
at  half-past  twelve  was  thumping  faintly 
along  somewhere  between  Boston  and  the 
Square  —  it  might  have  been  a  great  dis 
tance  away,  so  intensely  still  was  the  inter 
vening  suburb ;  and  through  all  the  flat, 
silent  streets  the  night  air,  cool  and  pun 
gent  with  the  damp  of  salt  marshes,  blew 
gently  up  from  the  Charles  and  intensified 
the  atmosphere  of  emptiness. 

Naturally  enough,  Hewitt's  sense  of 
isolation  was  far  less  on  these  solitary 
rambles  of  his,  than  when  he  jostled 
elbows  in  crowded  class-rooms  with  fel 
lows  who,  he  felt,  were  potentially  his 
friends,  at  the  same  time  that  he  was  real 
ising  how  utterly  excluded  he  was  from 
their  schemes  of  life.  Morbidness  was 
foreign  to  a  nature  like  his ;  and  yet,  as 
time  went  on,  he  had  been  forced  to  regard 
Cambridge  as  most  satisfactory  when  de 
serted  and  asleep.  It  was  only  then  that 
the  forlorn  feeling  of  being  no  essential 
part  of  his  surroundings  often  left  him ; 


THE    CHANCE  29 

and  although  he  recognised  the  weakness 
of  strolling  away  from  unpleasant  truths, 
the  altogether  unlooked-for  state  of  affairs 
at  college  had  cowed  him  into  temporary 
helplessness.  That  this  furtive  condition 
was  temporary,  even  he  himself  was  in  a 
measure  aware ;  one  cannot  but  feel  at 
college  that  after  a  certain  time  has  passed, 
one's  fellows,  in  spite  of  the  plasticity  of 
youth,  become,  if  not  solid,  at  least  viscous, 
in  the  moulds  that  have  received  them. 
There  is  an  uneasy  period  of  ebullition  in 
which  boys  try  very  hard  to  enjoy  the 
things  that  they  do,  in  the  absence  of  the 
self-poise  that  enables  them  to  do  what 
they  eventually  find  they  enjoy.  Intima 
cies  are  formed  and  broken ;  habits  are 
acquired  and  not  broken  ;  there  is  a  weigh 
ing  and  a  levelling,  and  at  last,  toward  the 
end  of  one's  sophomore  year,  almost 
everybody  has  been  made  or  marred  or 
overlooked. 

It  w^as  an  intuition  of  something  of  this 
kind  that  led  Hewitt,  in  his  more  thought 
ful  moods,  to  realise  that  he  was  having 
his  worst  time  now.  The  great,  ill-as 
sorted  crowd  that  technically  composed 
his  "  class  "  would  shift  and  change  and 


3o  HARVARD   EPISODES 

finally  become,  not  satisfied,  perhaps,  with 
the  various  combinations  it  had  evolved, 
but  certainly  used  to  them.  After  that, 
life  at  Harvard,  Hewitt  told  himself,  would 
be  simplified  for  him ;  the  time  for  iden 
tifying  one's  self  with  the  companions  of 
one's  choice  would  have  come  and  gone ; 
he  would  find  himself  standing  alone. 
His  future  development  would  not  be 
just  what  he  had  expected;  but  there  was 
peace  in  the  thought  that  his  position 
would  be  definite,  unalterable,  and  then, 
after  all,  he  would  be  standing,  and  not 
running  away,  as  in  the  past  year  he  had 
been  so  often  tempted  to  do.  Although 
anything  but  a  student,  he  could  even 
fancy  himself  ploughing  doggedly  in  self- 
defence  through  an  incredible  number 
of  courses  in  history,  or  some  such  sub 
ject,  and  at  the  end  pleasing  his  family 
with  two  or  three  Latin  words  of  a  lauda 
tory  nature  on  his  degree.  Hewitt  was 
too  thinking  and  too  just  a  person  not  to 
have  frequently  contrasted  his  own  condi 
tion  with  that  of  fellows  one  occasion 
ally  heard  about,  who  starved  their  way 
through  college  on  sums  that  would  have 
made  scarcely  an  impression  on  his  room- 


THE    CHANCE  31 

rent ;  their  persistent  "  sandiness  "  com 
pelled  his  admiration ;  more  than  once 
he  had  given  substantial  expression  to  it. 
But  it  was  at  best  a  very  theoretical  sort 
of  consolation  that  came  from  a  knowledge 
of  the  depressing  fact  that  many  of  his 
most  deserving  classmates  neither  ate  nor 
bathed.  His  unhappiness  differed  in  kind, 
but  not  in  reality. 

Although  he  appreciated  how  easy  and 
foolish  it  was  to  assume  the  "chance"  the 
graduate  had  dwelt  on  with  such  apparent 
authority,  and  then  let  loose  an  imagina 
tion  that  had  been  nourished  for  so  long 
on  nothing  more  satisfying  than  itself 
he,  nevertheless,  could  not  help  projecting 
himself  into  some  of  the  delightful  pos 
sibilities  of  that  chance.  As  he  loafed 
through  sleeping  Cambridge,  he  pictured 
himself  under  a  variety  of  circumstances 
playing  parts  neither  fanciful  nor  egoistic, 
but  strikingly  unlike  the  one  he  had  been 
cast  for.  The  common-place  incident  of 
being  joined  in  the  College  Yard  by  two  or 
three  friends  on  their  way  to  the  same 
lecture,  made  his  heart  beat  faster  to  think 
of;  the  thought  of  starting  off  for  an 
evening  in  town  with  a  crowd  of  fellows  — 


32  HARVARD    EPISODES 

like  those  talkative  groups  he  so  often  saw 
after  dinner,  waiting  impatiently  on  the 
corner  for  a  bridge  car  —  stirred  him  to 
a  mild,  pleasant  sort  of  excitement.  He 
even  held  imaginary  conversations  with 
Haydock  and  Davis  and  Bradley  and  the 
rest  of  them,  in  which  he  modestly  re 
frained  from  saying  all  the  good  things,  — 
conversations  in  which  these  classmates  of 
his  emerged,  became  individuals,  and  for 
an  hour  seemed  glad  to  be  numbered 
among  Hewitt's  acquaintance.  With  his 
exhaustive  knowledge  of  what  might 
happen  to  a  boy  at  college,  he  liked  to 
imagine  himself  in  the  position  where 
friends  and  influence  are  synonymous, 
constantly  keeping  fresh  the  memory  of 
his  own  dreary  experience,  and  taking 
infinite  joy  in  quietly  extricating  others 
from  a  similar  one. 

When  Hewitt  returned  to  Claverly  by 
a  circuitous  way  through  the  College  Yard, 
and  out  again  into  the  empty  triangular 
Square,  he  found  a  dumpy,  patient-look 
ing  herdic  cab  drawn  up  to  the  curbstone. 
The  driver  had  tucked  away  his  money 
somewhere  in  the  region  of  his  portly 
waist,  and  was  pulling  his  coat  over  the 


THE    CHANCE  33 

spot,  preparatory  to  mounting  the  box. 
But  the  tall  young  man  in  evening  dress, 
who  apparently  had  just  paid  him,  had 
not  yet  turned  to  pass  through  the 
brightly  lighted  doorway.  Hewitt,  noting 
the  overcoat  that  lay  limp  and  unheeded 
on  the  sidewalk,  and  the  almost  imper 
ceptible  uncertainty  of  the  young  fellow's 
neat,  boyish  back  in  its  conscious  equilib 
rium,  stopped  to  give  that  second  and 
more  searching  look  one  always  gives  a 
drunken  man,  however  usual  the  spectacle 
of  drunkenness.  They  both  stood  there 
a  moment :  Hewitt  half  way  up  the  stone 
steps  of  the  building,  the  other  with  his 
back  turned,  swaying  gently  on  the  walk 
below,  as  if  listening  to  the  diminishing 
clatter  of  the  shabby  little  cab.  Horace 
scarcely  knew  why  he  himself  lingered 
over  an  affair  so  personal  and  so  mani 
festly  not  his  own.  He  found  justifica 
tion  for  his  curiosity,  however,  —  although 
it  was  characteristic  neither  of  his  college 
nor  himself,  —  when  the  object  of  it 
started  slowly  and  aimlessly  down  the 
street,  leaving  his  overcoat  on  the  bricks, 
where  it  had  dropped. 

The  garment  was  a  light,  slender  thing, 


34  HARVARD    EPISODES 

and  as  Horace  hung  it  over  his  arm  and 
smoothed  its  soft  lining  with  his  fingers, 
he  wondered  more  what  its  wearer  was 
like,  than  what  he  should  do  with  it.  It 
was  easy  enough  to  keep  the  coat  in  his 
room  until  —  as  was  sure  to  happen  —  an 
advertisement,  somewhat  vague  as  to 
where  the  article  had  been  lost,  appeared 
in  the  "  Harvard  Crimson,"  or  he  might 
restore  it  at  once  to  its  owner,  who  by 
this  time  had  stopped  undecidedly  in  the 
black  shadow  on  the  nearest  street-corner. 
There  was  something  companionable  in 
the  way  the  coat  clung  to  his  arm,  that 
made  him  wish  to  keep  it  a  little  longer ; 
but  he  ended  by  doing  the  simpler  thing. 

"Isn't  this  your  overcoat?"  he  said, 
walking  up  to  the  sharp  line  of  shadow 
on  the  other  side  of  which  the  shirt  bosom 
and  face  of  the  drunken  student  showed 
faintly.  Hewitt  broke  the  pause  that  fol 
lowed  by  repeating  his  question. 

"  Oh,  how  good  of  you  !  I  had  half 
decided  to  go  after  it,"  came  from  the 
darkness  in  an  astonishingly  clear,  fresh 
voice,  whose  convincing  mastery  of  the 
first  letter  of  the  alphabet  left  little  doubt 
as  to  its  possessor's  birthplace.  Had  not 


THE    CHANCE  35 

the  words  been  said  with  a  formality 
that,  under  the  circumstances,  was  absurd, 
Hewitt  would  have  felt  that  he  misjudged 
the  man's  condition. 

"  Don't  mind  me,  really,  I  'm  very, 
very  tight."  It  was  impossible  to  miscon 
strue  this  statement,  or  the  wild,  exultant 
over-emphasis  with  which  the  final  word 
was  declaimed.  Hewitt  laughed. 

"  Oh,  are  you  ? "  he  answered,  adding, 
"  well,  here  's  your  overcoat,"  as  if  these 
two  facts  existed  only  in  conjunction. 

The  man  in  the  shadow  veered  sud 
denly  from  the  wall  he  had  been  leaning 
against  into  the  light ;  and  Horace  —  see 
ing  him  distinctly  for  the  first  time  — 
realised  that  it  was  his  classmate,  Bradley. 
Coming  immediately  after  the  talk  with 
Curtiss,  this  meeting  was  startling  to 
Horace.  It  seemed  almost  prearranged. 
He  gently  forced  Bradley  to  take  the 
overcoat,  said  good-night,  and  turned  to 
walk  away. 

"  Don't  go  to  bed  !  Oh,  don't  go  to 
bed  !  "  pleaded  Bradley,  in  a  sort  of  en 
gaging  whimper.  His  clutch  at  Hewitt's 
shoulder  might  have  been  either  a  ges 
ture  of  entreaty  or  a  measure  of  safety. 


36  HARVARD   EPISODES 

"  It 's  early  —  awf 'ly  early.  The  longer 
you  stay  up  in  Cambridge  the  earlier  it 
gets ;  and  the  sparrows  walk  all  over 
Mount  Auburn  Street  in  the  morning  and 
sing,  —  corking  big  ones,  like  ostriches, 
—  seen  them  lots  of  times.  Don't  go  to 
bed!" 

"  I  'm  afraid  I  must,"  said  Horace, 
looking  gravely  into  his  classmate's  large, 
kindly  eyes,  that  swam  helplessly,  and 
focussed  nothing.  Bradley  took  posses 
sion  of  Hewitt's  other  shoulder;  then,  in 
the  intimate  confidential  tone  that  for  so 
long  had  ceased  to  exist  for  Horace,  he  said, 
"  I  don't  want  to  go  to  bed  —  come  on  !  " 

The  invitation,  though  as  to  form  rather 
indefinite,  was  most  sincere.  There  was 
distinctly  some  sort  of  an  intention  in 
Bradley's  wish  to  have  the  other  man 
"  Come  on ;  "  he  spoke  as  if  he  already 
had  expressed  it.  Hewitt,  scanning  his 
drawn  face,  and  then  lowering  his  glance 
to  the  snowy  shirt-bosom,  tried  hard  to 
find  out,  without  asking,  exactly  where 
cc  on  "  was.  Of  course,  any  proposition 
from  the  fellow  just  then  might  be,  in  a 
general  way,  safely  interpreted,  "  More 
drinks  ;  "  instinct  told  Horace  that.  But 


THE    CHANCE  37 

beyond  this  broad  point  of  departure, 
along  what  lines  did  the  amiable  tipsy 
young  person  intend  to  proceed  ?  He 
was  becoming  every  moment  more  demon 
strative,  more  insistent,  and  by  reason  of 
his  condition,  rather  than  in  spite  of  it, 
more  irresistible.  Was  he  going  back  to 
town  ?  Did  he  have  some  stuff  in  his 
own  room  ?  Or  had  he,  perhaps,  reached 
the  stage  that  plans  nothing  more  elabo 
rate  than  the  primitive,  genial  pastime  of 
lurching,  arm  in  arm,  along  the  streets  and 
making  a  noise?  Bradley  suddenly  an 
swered  the  unput  questions  by  suggesting 
ways  and  means. 

"  We  can  wait  until  somebody  comes 
out  in  a  cab,  and  go  back  in  it ;  done  it 
lots  of  times."  He  gave  Hewitt  a  little 
urging  shake. 

"  Why,  you  Ve  just  come  from  town 
about  a  minute  ago  !  "  Horace's  attempt 
to  back  gently  from  under  his  friend's 
nervous  hands  was  a  failure.  Bradley 
gave  him  the  long,  wise  look  of  one  whose 
mind  is  blank,  until  a  slow  sort  of  inspira 
tion  enabled  him  to  exclaim,  — 

"  Well,  you  can't  stay  in  there  all  alone, 
can  you  ?  "  —  a  very  telling  bit  of  argu- 


38  HARVARD    EPISODES 

ment.  "  I  came  out  here  to  get  you  ; 
that's  why  I  came  out." 

Hewitt  burst  into  honest  laughter. 
This  tall  child  struck  him  as  indescribably 
funny  and  young  and  drunk.  Then,  with 
a  quick  downward  wriggle,  he  broke  away, 
still  laughing,  and  made  a  dash  for  the 
steps.  Hatless,  wild-eyed  Bradley,  scream 
ing  curses  into  the  night,  had  him  round 
the  knees,  as  he  stumbled  across  the  top 
step  to  the  door.  Together  they  rolled 
and  slid,  scuffling,  gasping,  to  the  brick 
sidewalk. 

"  You  would  try  to  get  away  from  me, 
would  you  ?  What  a  hell  of  a  dirty  trick 
to  play  a  man !  You  would,  would 
you  ? " 

"  Get  off  my  stomach,  Bradley,  you 
hurt  me." 

"  You  would  break  away,  would  you  ?  " 
The  robust  emphasis  of  the  remark 
pounded  a  painful  staccato  grunt  out  of 
Hewitt's  vitals. 

"  Please  let  me  up  !  "  It  took  a  good 
deal  of  self-control  to  put  it  just  that  way; 
Hewitt  had  bumped  his  head,  and  was  be 
ginning  to  feel  the  cool  bricks  against  his 
back. 


THE    CHANCE  39 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  mused  Bradley, 
airily;  "'you're  not  the  only  pebble  on 
the  beach.' '  Then,  after  a  silence,  in 
which  the  man  under  him  tried  to  rest 
his  head  more  comfortably,  "  Will  you  be 
good  ?  Do  you  know  —  I  don't  think  I 
can  trust  you  !  If  I  let  you  up,  will  you 
do  what  I  want  you  to  ?  " 

"  We  '11  talk  it  over,"  the  other  con 
ceded. 

They  scrambled  to  their  feet ;  Hewitt 
brushed  himself  off  with  his  cap.  Had 
both  men  been  sober,  they  would  have 
looked  at  each  other  a  moment,  and 
laughed.  Under  the  circumstances,  the 
situation  was  grotesque  enough  to  seem 
quite  natural  to  Bradley. 

"  Come  on,"  he  said  ;  <c  now  we  '11 
go  to  town.  Oh,  my  hat  !  where  's  my 
hat —  and  my  coat !  "  He  cursed,  as  he 
looked  about  him,  —  an  amiable,  ingenu 
ous  ripple  of  blasphemy,  as  harmless  in 
intention  and  as  cheerfully  spoken  as  a  bit 
of  verse. 

A  returning  cab  swung  round  the  cor 
ner.  Bradley  sauntered  into  the  middle 
of  the  street  to  stop  it.  The  manner  in 
which  all  idea  of  hat  and  coat  passed  from 


40  HARVARD    EPISODES 

his  mind  made  Hewitt  think  of  a  round- 
eyed  baby  absently  letting  drop  the  toy 
that  has  been  thrust  into  its  convulsive 
little  fist.  To  Horace  the  cab  was  an  un 
welcome  intrusion.  He  thought  it  fore 
told  complications,  and  perhaps  a  scene. 
For  he  had  decided,  beyond  the  probability 
of  changing  his  mind,  that  he  would  not 
spend  the  rest  of  the  night  in  Boston  with 
his  exhilarated  classmate.  A  nicer  reti 
cence  than  the  simple  one  of  moral  scruples 
kept  him  from  carousing  with  his  new  ac 
quaintance.  He  shrank  from  taking  ad 
vantage  of  this  chance  —  so  accidental,  so 
far-fetched  —  of  impressing  himself  on  the 
one  fellow  in  his  class  whose  friendship, 
more  than  any  other,  he  coveted.  The 
proceeding,  he  felt,  would  be  a  somewhat 
thick-skinned  one.  There  was  something 
in  the  idea,  not  quite  like  winning  a 
drunken  man's  money  at  cards,  but  sug 
gestive  of  it.  "  Peter"  Bradley  symbolised 
to  Hewitt  an  entire  chapter  of  Harvard  life. 
To-night,  Horace  felt,  in  coming  so  unex 
pectedly  on  one  with  whom  he  existed  in 
all  the  intimacy  of  the  imagination,  as  if  he 
had  been  caught  surreptitiously  reading 
the  chapter  in  manuscript. 


THE    CHANCE  41 

He  went  out  where  Bradley  was  talking 
earnestly  to  the  cab-driver. 

"  Let  's  not  go  to  town,  Bradley,"  he 
said,  yawning.  "  It 's  so  far  and  chilly 
and  everything."  Quickly,  as  if  inspired 
by  a  new  and  daring  thought,  he  grasped 
the  boy  by  the  wrist,  and  exclaimed  en 
thusiastically,  "I  '11  tell  you  what  we'll  do 
—  we  '11  stay  in  Cambridge  !  " 

"  By  Heaven,  I  '11  go  you  !  Eh-h-h-h- 
h-h  — we  '11  stay  in  Cambridge  !  we'll  stay 
in  Cambridge  ! "  He  danced  all  over  the 
street  in  a  frenzy  of  mirth  and  movement, 
singing  again  and  again,  "  We  '11  stay  in 
in  Cambridge  !  we  '11  stay  in  Cambridge  ! 
we  '11  stay  in  Cambridge  ! "  while  Hewitt 
said,  "  Good-night  —  sorry  he  troubled 
you,"  to  the  cabman.  A  voice  from  one 
of  the  small  wooden  houses  that  basks  in 
the  shadow  of  Claverly,  yelled,  "  Oh,  shut 
tup  !  "  very  peevishly,  just  as  Bradley  threw 
himself  at  Horace  with  a  prolonged  mean 
ingless  scream. 

"  What  do  you  think  you  'd  like  to  do 
now  ? "  asked  Hewitt,  after  a  moment, 
bracing  himself  to  support  his  burden. 

"  Wait  till  I  get  my  breath,  and  we  '11 
do — everything,"  panted  the  burden.  It 


42  HARVARD    EPISODES 

laughed  hysterical,  extremely  silly  little 
laughs.  Then  solemnly,  soberly,  Bradley 
led  the  way  to  the  curbstone.  "  Come 
over  here  —  I  want  to  talk  to  you ;  sit 
down,"  he  said.  "  Will  you  wait  here  and 
not  let  a  sparrow  get  by  —  not  a  single 
one  —  while  I  dash  across  and  find  some 
thing  to  drink  ?  " 

"It's  getting  cold,  Bradley;  how  long 
will  you  be  ?  " 

"  You  won't  know  I  Ve  been  gone,  I  '11 
be  so  quick."  He  was  off,  —  half  way 
across  the  street  like  a  skittish  young 
animal,  —  then  tip-toeing  back,  stealthy, 
furtive,  mysterious.  He  crouched  by 
the  man  on  the  curbstone,  and  with  his 
mouth  close  to  Hewitt's  ear  whispered 
earnestly :  — 

"  If  I  tell  you  something,  will  you 
promise  not  to  tell  ?  It 's  a  secret,  you 
know." 

"  I  don't  think  you  'd  better,"  gravely. 

"  I  must,  —  it 's  killing  me." 

Horace  looked  to  see  if  the  fellow  was 
crying. 

"  I  '11  never  repeat  it  to  any  one,"  he 
promised. 

"  It 's  awful,  —  horrible,"  moaned  Brad- 


THE    CHANCE 


43 


ley,  drawing  closer  to  Hewitt,  and  putting 
his  arms  round  him.  "  It 's  this,'*  he 
sobbed ;  "  I  don't  believe  in  either  Space 
or  Time."  He  was  gone  again,  with  a 
backward  spring  that  sent  the  other 
sprawling.  Horace  sat  up  and  watched 
the  boy  dart  across  to  an  opposite  house, 
fumble  a  moment  at  the  door,  and  dis 
appear  with  a  slam.  Instantly  every  win 
dow  upstairs  and  down  glowed  yellow. 
The  noise  of  a  piano,  slapped  pettishly 
from  bass  to  treble  by  an  open  palm, 
came  over  to  the  young  man  who  sat 
thinking  on  the  curbstone. 

What  he  thought  was  just  about  what 
any  other  normal  person,  under  the  same 
circumstances,  would  have  thought.  He 
wondered  how  long  it  would  be  before 
Peter  came  back;  what  they  would  do 
when  he  did  come  back  ;  and  where  that 
night  was  leading.  It  might  take  him, 
Horace,  far,  —  almost  anywhere,  —  away 
from  himself,  to  a  troop  of  friends,  to 
the  club  across  the  street.  Or  it  might 
leave  him  at  night's  ordinary  desti 
nation.  But  whatever  the  end,  the  be 
ginning  was  his  opening,  his  chance.  It 
had  pranced  at  him  in  the  guise  of  a  crazy. 


44  HARVARD    EPISODES 

faunlike,  drunken  thing;  thanks  to  Cur- 
tiss,  he  had  recognised  it. 

He  tried  to  picture  to  himself  the  inside 
of  the  club  house,  over  whose  charmed 
threshold  his  friend  had  just  plunged.  He 
also  marvelled  a  moment  at  the  vagaries 
of  inebriety ;  it  was  curious,  for  instance, 
that  any  one  so  far  gone  —  so  driven  by 
every  whimsical,  erratic  impulse  as  Bradley 
—  should  give  heed  to  the  etiquette  that 
did  not  permit  him  to  take  into  the  club 
a  man  who  had  no  club  of  his  own.  How 
artful  the  youth  must  have  thought  him 
self,  when  he  left  Horace  behind,  ostensi 
bly  to  detain  any  large  imaginary  sparrows 
that  might  pass  that  way.  Hewitt  had 
begun  to  hope  that  the  drink  Bradley 
brought  back  might  be  beer,  when  the 
windows  opposite  blackened,  the  door 
slammed,  and  the  boy  came  toward  him 
once  more.  His  expedition  had  not  been 
in  vain  ;  in  one  hand  he  carried  a  pomp 
ous  looking  bottle,  in  the  other  some 
glasses  that  clinked  cheerfully  as  he 
walked.  From  under  one  of  his  arms  a 
second  bottle  aimed  at  Hewitt  like  a  small 
piece  of  artillery. 

"  Unload  me.     That  one  's  burgundy  ; 


THE   CHANCE  45 

look  out,  don't  spill  it,  I  pulled  the  cork. 
The  other  's  fizz.  These  are  glasses. 
Got  a  knife  ?  —  cut  the  wires."  Bradley 
sat  down  on  the  curbstone. 

"  This  looks  as  if  we  were  going  to  see 
the  sunrise,"  said  Hewitt,  opening  his 
penknife. 

"  I  'd  rather  wait  till  hell  freezes  over ; 
seen  the  other  thing  lots  of  times."  He 
filled  a  long  glass  more  than  half  full 
of  burgundy,  and  guzzled  it.  "  Ugh  — 
what  belly  wash  —  hot  as  tea." 

"  That 's  what  you  get  for  looking  on 
the  wine  when  it 's  red.  Here  —  try  this." 
Hewitt  handed  the  other  glass.  It  foamed 
at  the  edges. 

"  I  could  die  drinking  this  stuff,"  said 
Bradley,  fervently. 

"  You  probably  will  —  here,  give  me 
some."  Horace  with  difficulty  got  pos 
session  of  the  glass,  and  held  it  to  his  lips. 
Bradley  amused  himself  by  wiping  his 
wet  hands  in  his  friend's  hair. 

They  sat  there  until  Peter  had  man 
aged  to  drink  and  spill  the  contents  of 
both  bottles.  He  refused  to  tell  where 
his  room  was,  so  Hewitt  attempted  to 
take  him  to  Claverly.  The  task  called 


46  HARVARD   EPISODES 

for  an  infinite  amount  of  patience  and 
tact  as  well  as  time.  For  Peter's  manner, 
though  all  at  once  excessively  polite,  was 
firm. 

"  It 's  ever  so  good  of  you  to  take  all 
this  trouble  for  me,"  he  asserted,  in  wor 
ried  tones.  Then  he  would  lie  down  in 
the  street,  saying  he  was  a  dead  horse, 
and  refuse  to  get  up.  The  affair  be 
came  almost  annoying  when,  on  reaching 
the  inside  of  Claverly  by  a  great  number 
of  almost  imperceptible  advances,  Brad 
ley  tore  the  fire  apparatus  from  its  red 
cage  on  the  wall  in  one  of  the  long  cor 
ridors,  and  screamed  "  Fire  !  "  like  a 
maniac.  If  anything  in  the  situation 
admitted  of  being  called  fortunate,  it  was 
the  proximity  of  Horace's  room  at  that 
particular  moment. 

The  proctors  in  Claverly  are  supposed 
to  sleep  in  the  attitude  of  one  whose 
ears  are  tense  with  listening.  And  it  has 
been  said  that  during  the  hours  in  which 
convention  prescribes  pyjamas,  their  cos 
tume  is  of  blanket  wrappers  and  felt  slip 
pers.  Their  appearance  upon  a  "  scene 
of  disturbance  "  has  been  estimated,  vari 
ously,  as  simultaneous  with  the  disturb- 


THE    CHANCE 


47 


ance,  or  anywhere  from  one  to  ten  seconds 
after  it.  Horace  had  just  time  enough  to 
thrust  Peter  into  his  room,  lock  the  door, 
and  begin  to  gather  up  the  hose,  when 
Mr.  Tush  —  arriving  silently  from  no 
where  —  was  there.  The  dishevelled  Mr. 
Tush  was  absurd  or  sublime,  according 
to  the  mood  of  the  one  who  apperceived 
him.  To  the  dispassionate  onlooker,  he 
merely  gave  an  impression  of  hair  and 
responsibility. 

"  The  janitor  will  arrange  the  fire  ap 
paratus,  Mr.  Hewitt,"  he  said,  drily.  "  By 
the  way,  would  you  mind  explaining  why 
it  happens  to  be  on  the  floor  ? " 

Hewitt  did  explain.  He  was  very 
sorry;  a  friend  of  his  had  come  out 
from  town ;  the  friend  was  not  quite  him 
self;  he  was  noisy  and  unmanageable ; 
it  would  not  happen  again. 

"  There  has  been  a  great  deal  of  disturb 
ance  in  the  building  recently,  Mr.  Hewitt." 

Horace  could  think  of  no  answer  in 
which  impertinence  did  not  lurk. 

"  Where  is  your  friend  ?  " 

"  In  my  room." 

"Is  he  a  student  in  Harvard  Univer 
sity  ?  " 


48  HARVARD    EPISODES 

"  No." 

"  Good-night,  Mr.  Hewitt.'1 

"  Good-night,  Mr.  Tush." 

Afterward,  whenever  Hewitt  thought 
over  his  meeting  with  Peter  Bradley,  the 
monosyllable  loomed  up  big  and  discon 
certing.  What  preceded  and  followed  it 
were  nothing.  He  had  not  minded  Brad- 
ley's  drunken  tyranny  ;  the  experience  was 
novel.  He  had  not  objected  to  undressing 
the  boy  and  putting  him  to  bed  ;  it  was 
inevitable.  But  the  lie  meant  something, 
and  the  memory  of  it  hurt ;  although 
he  believed  it  to  be  the  simplest,  most 
effective  way  of  disposing  of  Tush. 

Hewitt  spent  what  was  left  of  the  night 
on  his  divan,  and  got  up  in  time  for  a 
nine  o'clock.  He  would  have  much 
rather  slept  until  noon  ;  but  he  did  not 
want  to  be  in  his  room  when  Bradley 
woke  ;  he  felt  it  might  be  rather  trying 
for  Bradley.  So  he  hung  clean  towels 
over  the  edge  of  the  bathtub,  and  pinned 
a  note  to  the  back  of  the  chair  on  which 
he  had  laid  his  guest's  clothes,  saying : 
"  Sorry  I  have  to  run  away.  Hope 
you  '11  find  everything  you  want."  It 
was  after  eleven  o'clock  when  he  came 


THE  CHANCE 


49 


back  ;  but  the  fellow  was  still  sleeping. 
Horace  stood  in  the  doorway  a  moment 
and  watched  the  flushed,  childish  face 
on  the  pillow ;  it  seemed  incredible  that 
Peter  should  be  curled  up  there  in  bed. 
Then  he  tiptoed  away  and  had  luncheon 
at  a  hotel  in  town,  and  spent  the  after 
noon  looking  at  shop-windows. 

Three  days  afterwards,  while  Hewitt 
was  waiting  in  his  room  for  Curtiss,  who 
was  coming  round  for  a  walk,  Bradley 
came  to  see  him.  It  was  probably  not  a 
very  easy  thing  to  do  ;  but  Bradley  did  it 
adequately.  His  manner  —  sober  —  was 
the  kind  that  a  stranger  attributes  to  shy 
ness,  an  intimate  friend  to  simplicity. 

"  I  was  n't  nice  at  all  the  other  night, 
was  I  ?  "  he  said,  after  a  moment  of  awk 
wardness,  during  which  they  both  laughed. 
"  I  'm  awfully  sorry  about  it  really ;  it 
must  have  bored  you  like  anything/' 

"It  didn't  at  all,"  declared  Horace. 
He  held  out  a  package  of  cigarettes. 

"  Well,  tell  me  what  happened ;  I 
think  I  must  have  been  a  great  deal 
tighter  than  you  thought  I  was." 

"No,  I  don't  think  that  — "  began 
Hewitt,  at  which  they  laughed  some 
4 


50  HARVARD   EPISODES 

more.  "  Why,  nothing  very  much  hap 
pened  ;  you  merely  —  do  you  remem 
ber  getting  the  champagne  and  bur 
gundy  ?  " 

"  Oh,  perfectly." 

"  Well,  do  you  remember  lying  down  in 
the  street  and  refusing  to  get  up  ?  " 

"  No-o-o  —  "  very  doubtfully.  (After 
all,  I  suppose  one  does  n't  remember  such 
things.) 

"  Well,  you  did,  and  I  had  a  time  get 
ting  you  here  ;  and  don't  you  remember 
anything  at  all  about  the  hose  and  the 
proctor  and —  " 

So  it  was  lived  over  again  from  begin 
ning  to  end,  with  a  great  deal  of  detail  and 
laughing  and  remorse  of  a  cheerful  and 
unconvincing  kind.  Bradley  looked  seri 
ous  when  he  heard  the  part  about  the 
proctor;  but  on  learning  that  Mr.  Tush 
had  not  seen  him,  and  that  Hewitt's  lie 
had  made  the  chance  of  a  more  careful  in 
quiry  quite  improbable,  he  found  the 
whole  thing  immensely  amusing. 

"  I  have  a  lot  to  thank  you  for,"  he 
said,  staring  about  the  room.  Hewitt 
made  the  inevitable  protest,  and  then 
there  was  a  pause.  These  two  persons, 


THE    CHANCE  51 

who  were  Harvard  men,  classmates,  and 
about  the  same  age,  suddenly  had  noth 
ing  to  talk  about.  The  single  point  at 
which  their  lives  touched  was  the  tiniest 
dot  on  the  page  of  their  experience,  —  the 
sort  of  dot,  too,  that  both  were  willing  to 
ignore  as  quickly  as  possible.  They  no 
doubt  listened  to  the  same  lectures  from 
time  to  time.  But  one  does  not,  apropos 
of  nothing  at  all,  discuss  the  Malthusian 
Doctrine  or  the  importance  of  the  semi 
colon  in  literature. 

You  can't  talk  to  a  college  man  about 
himself,  when  his  career  is  a  pleasanter 
one  than  your  own,  because — well,  be 
cause  you  must  n't.  And  you  can't  talk 
to  a  man  who  is  to  you  an  unknown 
quantity,  —  a  nonentity,  a  cipher,  —  sim 
ply  because  you  can't.  It 's  all  very  dis 
tressing,  and  you  talk  about  athletics. 
But  in  the  month  of  March  the  effort  is 
transparent  and  a  bore.  Neither  foot 
ball  nor  base-ball  is  contemporaneous  ;  the 
crew  is  still  rather  vague;  and  when  you 
plunge  recklessly  into  track  athletics,  it 
occurs  to  you,  all  at  once,  that  you 
have  n't  taken  the  trouble  to  go  near  any 
since  your  freshman  year.  It's  impos- 


52  HARVARD    EPISODES 

sible,  therefore,  to  recall  whether  Spavins 
is  the  person  who  ran  the  hurdles  in  six 
teen,  or  reached  incredible  heights  in  the 
pole  vault;  it  is  even  likely  that  Spavins 
did  neither,  and  was  all  the  time  behind 
the  bleachers  absorbed  in  putting  the 
shot.  To  tell  the  truth,  you  don't  know 
Spavins ;  you  have  never  met  him ; 
you  never  will,  and  you  always  skip  the 
column  in  the  "  Crimson  "  that  records  his 
exploits. 

This  was  the  basis  on  which  Hewitt 
and  Bradley  finished  their  talk.  The  pe 
culiar  occasion  of  their  being  in  the  same 
room  together  was  at  an  end.  Bradley 
lingered  merely  because  an  innate  sense  of 
proportion  kept  him  there ;  to  leave  the 
minute  you  say  the  only  thing  you  came 
to  say,  is  like  running  out  of  church  before 
the  people  all  round  you  are  done  confid 
ing  things  to  the  backs  of  the  pews  in 
front  of  them.  Your  devotions  only 
properly  cease  when  the  subdued  sponta 
neous  exertion  of  stout  women  regaining 
the  perpendicular  gives  you  the  signal. 
Bradley  was  waiting  for  the  signal.  The 
bell  on  Harvard  Hall,  calling  students  to 
the  last  lecture  of  the  day,  sounded  it. 


THE    CHANCE  53 

cc  There  goes  the  bell ;  I  must  hurry 
along,"  he  said,  fingering  the  note-book 
he  had  brought  with  him. 

"  Oh,  cut  your  lecture  !  "  came  from 
Horace  rather  eagerly.  Bradley  looked 
up  in  surprise.  His  face  was  not  well 
fashioned  for  concealing  what  went  on  in 
his  head.  Just  now  it  distinctly  said, 
"  How  extraordinary  !  Why  should  I  cut 
my  lecture  ?  "  His  words,  however,  were, 
"  Oh,  no,  thank  you  ;  I  must  run  along  !  " 
He  took  another  cigarette  to  smoke  on 
the  way  over  to  the  Yard,  and  sauntered 
round  the  room,  although  he  mentioned 
more  than  once  his  fear  of  being  late.  At 
the  door,  he  turned  to  say,  "  Well,  good 
bye  ;  I  hope  you  know  how  much  obliged 
I  am  to  you  for  all  that." 

"  There  is  n't  anything  really.  Good 
bye."  Horace  assisted  at  the  opening  and 
shutting  of  the  door,  in  the  unnecessary 
way  one  does  with  strangers.  Then  he 
walked  slowly  up  and  down  his  study, 
with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  whistling 
energetically  under  his  breath,  and  stop 
ping  every  now  and  then  to  stare  out  of 
the  window.  Curtiss  came  in  almost 
immediately. 


54  HARVARD    EPISODES 

"  I  met  that  good-looking  classmate  of 
yours,    Bradley,   at    the  door,"    he    said. 

Curtiss  walked  straight  up  to  Hewitt, he 

had  a  dramatic  way  of  doing  almost  every 
thing,  —  and  grasped  his  friend's  hand. 
"Has  he  been  here?"  he  asked,  smiling 
a  pleased  smile. 

"Yes;   he  's  just  left." 

A  pause. 

"  Did  he  ask  you  to  go  see  him  ?  " 

"  No,"  very  simply. 

"  Will  he  come  back  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  The  pig  !  " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  he  's  nothing  of 
the  kind." 

:c  I  'm  afraid  I  don't  understand,  then. 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  do,  better  than  anybody, 
except  possibly  myself." 

Another  silence. 

"  Well,  go  on  ;   I  'm  waiting." 

"  Why  should  the  man  ask  me  to  go 
see  him  ?  "  asked  Hewitt,  passionately. 
"He  —  " 

"  But,  my  dear  boy  !  "  protested  Curtiss. 

"  Don't !  don't !  "  Horace  drew  away 
pettishly.  "When  you  bluff  like  that, 
you  make  me  sick.  Bradley  has  done 


THE    CHANCE  55 

everything  he  ought  to  have  done,  and 
more  too,"  he  went  on  quietly.  "  If  I 
expect  more,  I  'm  a  fool  ;  if  you  do, 
you  're  a  hypocrite  !  Bradley  might  have 
written  me  a  polite  note,  and  considered 
the  thing  square.  Instead  of  that  he  took 
the  trouble  to  climb  up  here  to  apologise 
and  thank  me.  He  was  well-bred  and 
polite  and  unget-at-able,  —  the  way  gentle 
men  ought  to  be.  And  that 's  all ;  that 's 
the  end  of  it.  We'll  never  see  each 
other  again  ;  why  should  we  ?  I  sup 
pose  if  I  'd  gone  to  any  other  college 
in  the  country,  and  this  had  happened, 
Bradley  would  have  put  his  paws  on  my 
shoulders  and  lapped  my  face  ;  and  we  'd 
have  roomed  together  next  year,  and  pro 
posed  to  each  other's  sisters  on  Class  Day. 
But  I  did  n't  go  to  any  other  college ; 
I  'm  damned  glad  I  did  n't,  —  everybody 
always  is.  I  don't  know  why,  but  I  am. 
Between  you  and  Bradley,  I  Ve  learned 
more  about  this  place  than  I  ever  knew 
there  was  to  know.  If  I  could  write,  I  'd 
knock  the  spots  out  of  any  magazine 
article  on  Harvard  that's  ever  been 
printed."  Horace  stopped  and  looked 
out  of  the  window.  What  he  had  been 


56  HARVARD   EPISODES 

saying  was  a  curious  mixture  of  bitterness 
and  indifference. 

"  Come,  let 's  take  a  walk,"  he  ex 
claimed  briskly,  in  another  tone. 

"  Yes,  let 's,"  answered  Curtiss ;  "  that 's 
what  I  came  for/'  and  he  began  to  hum, 
while  Horace  was  looking  for  a  hat, — 

"  Oh,  Harvard  was  old  Harvard 
When  —  " 


THE   SERPENT'S   TOOTH 

"/COLLEGE  life,"  murmur  old  men, 
V^  as  they  pause  a  moment,  before 
getting  into  bed,  and  listen  to  the  singing 
of  some  drunken  cabmen  in  the  street 
below. 

cc  College  life,"  whisper  the  Cambridge 
unsought,  as  they  cut  out  preposterous 
baby  clothes  at  the  Social  Union  and  dis 
cuss  somebody  or  other's  ungraceful  de 
parture  from  the  University. 

"  College  life,"  shudder  apprehensive 
mothers,  diagnosing  the  athletic  column 
for  dislocations. 

"  College  life,"  mutters  the  father  of 
the  man  who  got  sixteen  A's  and  brain 
fever. 

"  College  life  "  —  but  Dickey  Dawson 
and  the  three  fellows  who  had  stopped  in 
to  see  him  that  afternoon,  rather  prided 
themselves  on  not  being  typical  of  any 
recognised  phase  of  that  comprehensive 
platitude.  They  had  all,  thus  far,  in  their 


58  HARVARD   EPISODES 

college  life,  ingeniously  escaped  going  in 
for  anything  in  particular  and  were  in  the 
habit  of  regarding  themselves  as  a  nucleus 
for  a  future  society,  to  be  composed  of 
unrepresentative  Harvard  men.  Little 
Dickey  Dawson  even  went  so  far  as  to 
be  almost  ashamed  of  his  own  undeniable 
popularity ;  but,  as  he  remarked  apolo 
getically,  "  It  is  not  always  possible  to 
avert  success." 

He  was  not  well  that  afternoon.  The 
college  physician  had  come,  caused 
Dickey  to  throw  back  his  head,  open 
wide  his  mouth  and  say  "  ah-h-h,  ah-h-h," 
while  he  peered  in  with  a  sort  of  depreca 
tory  craftiness  and  found,  "  no  white 
spots,  but  a  state  of  congestion." 

Generally  speaking,  your  acquaintances 
at  college  do  not  realise  that  you  have 
been  sick  until  they  meet  you  in  the 
Yard  and  are  given  an  opportunity  to 
express  their  belated  sympathy.  The 
men,  however,  who  were  gossiping  in 
Dickey  Dawson's  room  that  day,  were  the 
men  who  had  missed  him  at  breakfast  and 
luncheon  and  had  come  to  hunt  him  up 
—  the  men,  in  short,  whom  he  knew  best 
and  enjoyed  most. 


THE   SERPENT'S   TOOTH         59 

There  was  Tommy,  with  the  profile 
and  the  glasses.  He  was  the  sort  of  per 
son  who  occasionally  writes  wordy  little 
book  reviews  for  an  obscure  literary 
magazine,  and  refers  to  himself,  now  and 
then,  as  "  a  driven  penny-a-liner."  Then 
there  was  Charlie  Bolo  who  was  not 
popularly  credited  with  much  sense  be 
yond  his  exceedingly  deformed  sense  of 
humour.  There  was  also  Bigelow  —  a 
bore  with  an  accomplishment.  All  three 
of  them  had  a  kind  of  verbal  agility  that 
passed,  among  themselves,  for  clever 
ness. 

^  "  What  means  this  ghastly  pomp  and 
circumstance  ?  "  asked  Dickey  Dawson 
from  the  sofa,  as  he  reached  out  and 
clutched  at  the  voluminous  tails  of 
Tommy's  frock  coat. 

"  It  means,  my  dear,  that  I  have  been 
to  see  two  women  whom  I  never  met 
before,''  answered  Tommy,  daintily  gath 
ering  his  skirts  about  him  and  sitting 
down.  "  One  of  them  lived  in  a  suburb 
and  was  perfectly  horrible." 

"  The  other,"  put  in  Charlie  Bolo,  who 
possessed  the  disagreeable  gift  of  conver 
sational  prophecy,  "  lived  in  a  dungeon  on 


60  HARVARD    EPISODES 

a  proper  street,  and  was  merely  horribly 
perfect/' 

"  Yes,  you  are  right,"  assented  Tommy, 
complacently.  "  She  was  a  Bodkin,  and  — 
well  —  you  know — Bodkins  are  Bod 
kins."  He  submitted  to  the  sui  generical 
fashion  in  which  one  is  obliged  to  refer  to 
certain  Boston  families. 

"Ah,  you  know  a  Bodkin,  you  know 
the  kind  of  woman  I  mean,"  he  went  on 
dramatically.  "  She 's  the  woman  who 
lies  awake  at  night — dreading  your  ar 
rival,  for  her  only  clew  to  your  identity  is 
a  perfunctory  letter  of  introduction  in 
forming  her  that  you  are  from  a  place  of 
which  she  never  heard.  She  is  the 
woman  who,  when  you  call,  roosts  dis 
creetly  at  the  extreme  end  of  a  long  sofa 
and  extends  a  series  of  well-worn  social 
c  feelers/  while  her  daughter  makes  tea 
in  a  masterly,  unemotional  way,  and  sup 
poses,  from  time  to  time, '  that  you  gradu 
ate  this  year/  or  c  that  you  must  find 
Cambridge  dull  after  —  after —  ' 

"  Those  are  some  of  the  local  formulae 
for  tact,"  broke  in  Charlie  Bolo. 

"  The  other  one  —  the  suburban  —  was 
truly  a  most  loathely  creature,"  continued 


THE    SERPENT'S    TOOTH        61 

Tommy  in  the  harsh  incisive  voice  that 
made  what  he  said  so  difficult  to  forget. 
"  She  did  n't  even  give  me  tea ;  and  you 
know  how  many  clever  things  I  can  say 
about  tea."  His  smile  was  an  impertinent 
challenge.  "  My  Aunt  got  me  into  it," 
he  half  yawned ;  "  there  was,  I  believe, 
some  reason  why  I  ought  to  go,  and  as  it 
was  n't  a  very  urgent  one  —  I  went.  The 
thing  actually  seemed  glad  to  see  me." 

"Imagine,"  laughed  Dickey  Dawson 
cautiously,  for  he  was  learning  how  to 
regulate  his  spontaneity  when  talking  to 
fellows  like  Tommy  and  Charlie  Bolo 
and  Bigelow,  and  had  come  to  believe 
that  he  laughs  best  who  laughs  least. 

"Yes,  and  she'd  been  abroad  and  seen 
the  Passion  Play,  or  the  Lakes  of  Killar- 
ney,  or  some  such  thing,  and  was  alto 
gether  a  most  impossible  sort  of  a  person. 
I  fancy  she  is  what  they  call  c  a  superior 
woman'  in  this  country  —  they  don't 
exist  anywhere  else,  I  believe." 

Dickey  Dawson's  throat  was  too  sore  to 
admit  of  his  talking  much  himself,  and  as 
Tommy  was  there  to  entertain  him  he 
said : 

"  Curse  her  more  specifically." 


62  HARVARD    EPISODES 

"  Oh,  what  is  the  use  ?  "  Tommy 
shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Besides,  I 
could  n't  very  well,  as  the  superior  woman 
is  not  a  human  being,  but  a  type. 
You've  certainly  seen  lots  of  her  —  there 
is  no  man  fortunate  enough  not  to  have. 
They  appeal  to  the  imagination  of — ' 

"  Of  the  unimaginative,  who  always 
marry  them,"  interrupted  Charlie  Bolo. 

"  Yes,  and  are  n't  they  usually  stout,  or 
inclined  to  be  ?  "  asked  Bigelow,  ab 
stractedly.  He  was  looking  through 
some  music  books  at  the  piano. 

"  Oh  dear  yes  ;  no  thin  woman  need 
aspire  to  superiority,  nor  no  unmarried 
one  either.  They  are  essentially  wives 
and  mothers,  but  not  vulgarly  so  necessa 
rily."  It  was  what  he  considered  accuracy 
rather  than  any  latent  charity  that  had 
induced  Tommy  to  add  this  detail. 

"  A  woman  whose  efficiency  transcends 
every  emergency,  known  or  unknown,  is 
in  a  fair  way  toward  becoming  superior," 
he  continued.  "  She 's  the  abnormally 
normal  —  the  hope  of  the  race  —  the  oat 
meal  of  humanity  —  Philistia  felix  — 
wow  ! " 

Charlie  Bolo  had  a  habit,  not  uncon> 


THE   SERPENT'S   TOOTH        63 

mon  among  college  men  in  college  rooms, 
of  carrying  on  most  of  his  conversation 
with  his  back  turned,  and  at  the  same 
time  examining  minutely  every  picture  in 
the  apartment,  vaguely  opening  most  of 
the  books  and  putting  them  down  again, 
critically  peering  at  a  "  shingle  "  here,  and 
striking  a  meaningless  chord  or  two  on 
the  piano  there,  and  from  time  to  time 
asking  questions  about  one's  various  be 
longings,  answers  to  which  —  if  ever  rashly 
undertaken  —  involved  the  short  but  in^ 
tricate  history  of  one's  life.  Charlie  Bolo, 
who  from  an  extended  practice  in  doing 
all  these  depressing  things  had  reduced 
his  method  of  inspecting  a  room  to  a  sort 
of  erratic  system,  was  just  finishing  the 
third  wall  and  passing  on  to  the  mantel 
piece  of  Dickey  Dawson's  study.  Here 
he  stopped  to  admire,  for  the  hundredth 
time  or  more,  a  picture  of  Dawson's 
mother.  Simultaneously  Tommy  came  to 
the  end  of  his  wordy  little  diatribe,  and 
glanced  up  with  what  was  known  to  the 
others  as  his  most  "receptive  smile."  He, 
too,  seemed  to  suspend  animation  before 
Mrs.  Dawson's  likeness,  and  during  the 
second  or  two  of  silence  that  followed, 


64  HARVARD    EPISODES 

both  Bigelow  and  Dickey  found  their  at 
tentions  fixed  on  the  picture  that  Charlie 
Bolo  had  taken  in  his  hand. 

Mrs.  Dawson,  a  remarkably  young- 
looking  woman  in  evening  dress,  was  lean 
ing  slightly  back  in  one  of  the  massive, 
richly  carved  chairs  peculiar  to  ancient 
Italy  and  modern  photography. 

From  the  point  of  view  of  mere  line 
Mrs.  Dawson  seemed  to  be  a  handsome 
woman.  However,  it  was  not  the  man 
ner  in  which  her  somewhat  haughty  head 
stood  out  from  the  soft,  dull  grey  of  its 
tapestry  background,  nor  yet  the  white 
slope  of  her  shoulders  against  the  dark 
wood,  that  most  impressed  one.  The 
charm  of  the  picture  —  for  it  unquestion 
ably  had  great  charm  —  came  rather  from 
the  perfection  of  the  lady's  equipment, 
and  the  regal  ease  with  which  she  seemed 
to  ignore  it.  Charlie  Bolo,  who  had  the 
wisdom  of  a  man  with  sisters,  always 
found  the  photograph  of  Mrs.  Dawson 
faultless — from  the  bit  of  white  ribbon 
twisted  through  her  hair,  and  the  fan  of 
ostrich  plumes,  and  the  long,  limp  glove 
lying  lightly  across  her  lap,  to  the  non 
committal  exposure  of  shoe-tip. 


THE   SERPENT'S    TOOTH        65 

There  was  the  briefest  possible  pause  in 
the  talk ;  but  coming  at  the  exact  time  it 
did,  it  was  more  than  long  enough  to 
enlighten  every  one  as  to  what  every  one 
else  was  thinking.  To  Dickey  Dawson, 
who  seized  the  opportunity  of  giving  all 
three  men  a  hasty,  apprehensive  glance,  it 
was  as  if  some  one  had  in  so  many  words 
exclaimed,  "  At  least  this  woman  is  not 
superior  !  "  But,  of  course,  no  one  could 
have  exclaimed  such  a  thing  with  Tommy 
sitting  there,  exerting  the  tacit  admonition 
of  inspired  refinement. 

This  tribute,  manifesting  itself  in  spon 
taneous  silence,  was  fraught  with  both 
pleasure  and  wretchedness  for  Dickey 
Dawson :  pleasure,  that  these  fellows  whom 
he  so  admired  and  looked  up  to,  should 
unquestioningly  accept  the  splendid  picture 
lady  as  his  mother,  together  with  all  that 
the  relationship  implied ;  wretchedness,  be 
cause  he  was  much  too  intelligent  a  young 
person  not  to  be  thoroughly  aware  that 
the  splendid  picture  lady  was  a  glorified 
arrangement  of  upholstery  and  apparel, 
bearing  about  as  much  resemblance  to  his 
mother  as,  for  purely  decorative  purposes, 
he  chose  to  have  it  bear.  He  was  proud 
5 


66  HARVARD    EPISODES 

of  the  portrait,  because  it  was  a  success  of 
his  own  conceiving ;  he  loathed  it,  because 
it  was  forever  rubbing  in  the  fact  that  his 
relations,  though  doubtless  admirable  in 
the  exercise  of  their  respective  domestic 
functions,  were  execrable  as  a  social  back 
ground.  He  detested  it  also,  because  it 
kept  unpleasantly  vivid  in  his  mind  the 
long  diplomatic  struggle  that  had  pre 
ceded  its  taking. 

"  Othei  boys  have  family  pictures  in 
their  rooms  at  college,"  he  had  said  to 
his  mother  in  the  vacation  that  followed 
his  sophomore  year ;  "  I  want  one  of  you 
to  take  back  with  me."  Whereupon  Mrs. 
Dawson,  with  considerable  pleasure  and 
some  reminiscent  vanity,  had  produced 
several  from  an  album.  Dickey  had  in 
spected  them  gravely,  from  the  one  in 
which  his  mother  was  picking  shamelessly 
artificial  pond-lilies  over  the  side  of  an 
unseaworthy  skiff,  to  the  jauntily  posed 
"  cabinet  size." 

"  I  should  like  to  have  one  that  looked 
more  as  you  do  now,"  he  had  said,  affec 
tionately  smoothing  her  hair  and  wonder 
ing  if  he  could  manage  it. 

He  had  managed  it,  of  course.     He  was 


THE   SERPENT'S    TOOTH        67 

always  tactful,  and  could  on  occasions  be 
tender  and  persuasive.  These  qualities, 
added  to  the  authority  he  exerted  in  his 
capacity  of  American  child,  had  in  time 
overcome  his  mother's  objections  to  the 
background,  properties,  pose,  coiffure,  and, 
most  difficult  of  all,  the  costume  he  had 
insisted  on  —  had,  in  fact,  even  achieved  a 
sublime  finishing  touch  by  having,  instead 
of  an  ordinary  gilt  advertisement,  the  pli 
able  photographer's  name  scrawled  care 
lessly  in  pencil  across  the  margin  of  his 
print.  Mrs.  Dawson  had  been  exceed 
ingly  shocked  at  the  result,  and  had,  not 
unnaturally,  failed  to  recognise  herself  in 
the  gracious,  self-possessed  personage  who 
gave  one  the  impression  of  having  sunk 
into  that  picturesque  seat  for  a  moment, 
until  her  carriage  should  be  called.  She 
had  speedily  regretted,  what  she  from  time 
to  time  referred  to  as  her  "  weakness,"  and 
had  hastened  to  exhibit  the  strength  she 
still  retained  by  breaking  the  negative 
with  her  own  hands  —  not,  however,  be 
fore  Dickey  had  procured  some  striking 
proofs  of  it.  The  very  success  of  the  pic 
ture  was  what  made  it  such  a  disturbing 
addition  to  Dawson's  room.  In  the  ap- 


68  HARVARD    EPISODES 

preciation  of  his  friends  it  had  furnished 
him  with  precisely  the  sort  of  mother  to 
which  his  eclectic  and  exotic  inclinations 
seemed  to  entitle  him.  He  himself,  in 
his  more  placid  moods,  derived  an  indefin 
able  satisfaction  from  the  thing,  and  was 
in  the  habit  of  sitting  before  it,  musing 
contentedly  on  his  perfect  adaptability  to 
the  people  and  surroundings  he  had  never 
been  used  to  at  home  —  an  adaptability 
that  sometimes  caused  him  to  wonder 
whether  he  were  not,  after  all,  illegitimate 
or  adopted.  Ordinarily,  however,  this 
fanciful  parent  of  his  appeared  to  him  in 
the  light  of  a  cunningly  devised,  auto 
matic  lie  that  kept  on  telling  itself  to  make 
him  miserable. 

Charlie  Bolo  carefully  returned  the  pho 
tograph  to  its  place.  His  back  had  been 
turned  to  the  room  and  he  was,  perhaps, 
the  only  one  of  the  four  men  who  did  not 
realise  the  direction  every  one's  thoughts 
had  taken. 

"  I  think  I  shall  have  to  get  rid  of  that 
libel  on  my  mother,"  mused  Dawson, 
brazenly. 

"  I  was  so  sorry  not  to  find  Mrs.  Daw- 
son  in  the  afternoon  I  called,"  said  Char- 


THE    SERPENT'S   TOOTH        69 

lie  Bolo,  passing  on  to  a  silver  candlestick. 
"  Is  she  to  be  long  in  town  ?  " 

"  So  was  I,"  murmured  Bigelow  ;  "  Bolo 
and  I  went  together." 

"You  must  give  her  a  tea,"  suggested 
Tommy,  getting  up.  When  he  had  on 
his  frock  coat,  he  sat  intermittently. 

"  I  should  like  to,  tremendously/'  lied 
Dawson,  with  a  pleasant  smile  ;  "  but  you 
see  she's  going  away  to-morrow.  She  was 
awfully  cut  up  about  missing  you  fellows  — 
I  think  she  was  at  a  luncheon,  or  some  such 
thing."  He  courageously  took  the  chances 
of  any  one's  having  seen  her  naively  ad 
miring  the  Washington  Elm  and  the  Long 
fellow  House  on  the  afternoon  in  question. 
"  She  's  going  to  be  here  such  a  very  short 
time"  —  this  was  a  detail,  but  it  seemed 
just  as  well  to  dwell  on  it  — "  that  you 
can  fancy  how  I  feel  about  being  laid  up 
like  this." 

Bigelow  said,  "  rotten,"  or  some  equally 
piquant  idiom  of  assent,  and  Charlie  Bolo, 
by  commenting  technically  on  a  Dutch  tile 
he  had  come  across,  was  on  the  point  of 
giving  an  entirely  new  turn  to  the  talk, 
when  something  happened. 

It  has  often  been  told  how  little  Dickey 


7o  HARVARD    EPISODES 

Dawson,  once  upon  a  time,  saved  some 
body  or  other's  life  by  coolly  dangling 
himself  to  the  bridle  of  a  big,  runaway 
horse.  The  occasion  on  which  he  drew 
red  hot  poker  sketches  where  a  dog  had 
bitten  the  calf  of  his  leg,  has  likewise  had 
its  historians.  But  no  one  has  ever  de 
scribed  what  took  place  when,  in  the  midst 
of  Charlie  Bolo's  exposition  of  tile  paint 
ing,  Dickey  called,  "  Come  in ! "  to  a 
doubting  knock  at  the  door,  and  Mrs. 
Dawson  advanced  two  steps  into  the  study 
and  then  stopped. 

For  a  moment  no  one,  with  the  excep 
tion  of  Dawson,  grasped  the  situation. 
He  had  grasped  it  and  was  wrestling  with 
it  as  he  threw  off  the  rug  that  covered  him 
where  he  lay  on  the  sofa  —  as  he  stepped 
across  the  room  —  as  he  placed  his  hands 
on  his  mother's  shoulders  and  kissed  her 
lightly  on  the  cheek.  He  had  grasped 
the  situation,  but  he  was  utterly  at  a  loss 
to  know  what  to  do  with  it. 

"  Did  n't  you  get  my  telegram  ?  "  his 
mother  was  saying  ;  "  why,  that 's  funny  — 
I  sent  one  from  the  hotel  quite  a  time  ago, 
c  Am  worried  about  sore  throat  will  come 
to  see  you  '  — just  ten  words  exactly." 


THE   SERPENT'S   TOOTH        71 

Then  he  found  himself  introducing  his 
three  friends  to  her  :  Tommy  first,  Charlie 
Bolo  second,  and  Bigelow  last,  and  as  he 
pronounced  their  names  slowly  and  dis 
tinctly,  he  tried  to  look  ahead  and  discover 
what  he  should  do  next. 

On  realising  that  the  impassive  Tommy 
was  being  presented  to  her,  Mrs.  Dawson 
began  to  extend  her  hand  toward  him ; 
but  her  impulse  collapsed  for  some  reason 
or  other  and  the  movement  resulted  in 
nothing  more  definite  than  the  disclosure 
of  her  silk  mits. 

The  three  men  were  so  completely  out 
side  of  any  calculations  she  had  made  be 
fore  knocking  on  her  son's  door,  that  she 
had  nothing  to  say  to  them  just  then,  so 
she  turned  once  more  to  Dickey  with  frank 
adoration  and  said,  — 

"  I  was  worried  about  your  throat." 

"  I  suppose,  like  the  rest  of  us,  Mrs. 
Dawson,  you  have  found  out  how  seriously 
he  objects  to  the  serious,"  ventured  Charlie 
Bolo  airily.  The  smile  Mrs.  Dawson  gave 
him  did  not  lack  sweetness,  for  she  had 
been  looking  at  Dickey ;  but  it  was  des 
perately  vague,  and  Bolo  felt  that  he  had 
made  a  false  start. 


72  HARVARD    EPISODES 

<c  They  are  taking  pretty  good  care  of 
me,  don't  you  think  ?  "  There  was  some 
thing  pallid  and  heroic  about  Dickey's 
playfulness. 

"  Oh,  this  college  life ! "  began  Mrs. 
Dawson,  forgetfully.  She  was  trying  to 
recollect  a  clipping  she  had  once  made 
from  a  newspaper. 

"  There  's  a  lack  of  woman's  sweeping, 
without  doubt,"  grumbled  Bigelow  jocosely 
—  the  music  books  he  had  been  examining 
had  dirtied  his  hands. 

"  Richard,  what  was  that  piece  I  cut  from 
the  (  Weekly  '  and  sent  you  last  year  ?  " 
Mrs.  Dawson  sat  down  in  the  chair  Dickey 
pushed  toward  her.  It  was  a  heavy  chair 
of  dark  wood,  and  gave  Tommy  a  vicious 
desire  to  look  at  the  picture  on  the  mantel 
piece.  Dickey  elaborated  the  little  anec 
dote  to  which  his  mother  referred  and 
made  the  most  of  it  —  it  was  nearly  din 
ner  time ;  the  fellows  would  certainly  go 
soon. 

"  You  have  so  many  books,  Richard," 
said  Mrs.  Dawson,  looking  about  the  room 
for  the  first  time. 

"Are  n't  his  shelves  attractive,"  assented 
Tommy  with  enthusiasm.  "  I  think  you 


THE    SERPENT'S   TOOTH        73 

would  approve  of  everything  there  too, 
Mrs.  Dawson,  with  the  possible  exception 
of  this,  which  you  undoubtedly  know 
enough  about  to  disapprove  of."  He 
laughingly  handed  her  a  volume  of  "  De 
generation  "  from  the  table.  Dawson 
could  have  slain  him  had  he  not  realised 
that  all  three  fellows  must  be  somewhat 
bewildered. 

"  Is  n't  it  —  is  n't  it  —  thick  —  "  faltered 
Mrs.  Dawson. 

"What  is  one  to  think  of  a  creature 
like  Nordau  ?  "  asked  Bigelow,  theatrically; 
"  that  is  to  say,  of  course,  beyond  his  ex 
quisitely  unconscious  sense  of  humour." 
He  had  made  this  remark  on  several 
previous  occasions,  and  its  technique  was, 
in  consequence,  becoming  quite  perfect. 
Mrs.  Dawson  looked  helplessly  at  Dickey 
and  said  nothing.  She  was  at  least  dis 
playing  what  Charlie  Bolo  called  <c  admir 
able  s avoir  taire" 

When  she  opened  the  volume  and 
leaned  over  to  examine  the  title-page, 
Tommy  gave  the  photograph  on  the 
mantelpiece  a  surreptitious  glance.  There 
was  a  more  or  less  grotesque  resemblance 
in  it  to  the  almost  portly,  middle-aged 


74  HARVARD   EPISODES 

original,  who  was  dressed  with  a  quiet 
absence  of  taste  and  answered  in  a  general 
way  Tommy's  description  of  a  superior 
woman.  It  was  very  embarrassing  and 
inexplicable  and  altogether  impossible. 
Tommy  did  not  understand  it  —  he  did 
not  understand  anything  any  more,  and 
only  wished  to  get  outside  and  pinch  him 
self  and  Charley  Bolo  and  Bigelow. 

Dickey  Dawson  did  most  of  the  talking, 
and  achieved  thereby  a  dismal  sort  of  suc 
cess.  His  mother  had  introduced  —  or 
rather  stumbled  on  —  fallen  over — the 
subject  of  books,  and  for  a  time  it  was  as 
if  Dawson  had  said  to  himself, — 

"  Books  !  books  !  what  can  I  say  of  the 
origin,  development,  history,  and  present 
condition  of  books  ?  "  For  he  chattered 
incessantly  about  them  —  his  own  —  Tom 
my's  —  anybody's.  He  told  funny  stories 
that  were  not  in  the  least  funny,  about  book 
agents,  and  was  in  the  midst  of  a  detailed  de 
scription  of  a  book-case  when  he  realised  he 
was  making  a  fool  of  himself  and  stopped. 

"  I  like  reading,"  mused  Mrs.  Dawson, 
as  she  mechanically  turned  the  leaves  of 
"  Degeneration."  "  I  think  it  cultivates 
the  observation." 


THE   SERPENT'S    TOOTH        75 

"  I  feel  sometimes  that  it  would  be  more 
advisable  to  cultivate  blindness  than  ob 
servation,"  answered  Tommy.  He  was 
becoming  reckless  and  got  up  to  go. 

Mrs.  Dawson's  lips  parted  to  say  some 
thing,  but  Dickey  broke  in  with,  — 

"I  wish  one  of  you  fellows  would  kindly 
stop  at  the  stable  and  send  round  a  cab. 
It  is  too  late  for  my  mother  to  go  back 
to  town  in  the  car." 

A  protest  from  Mrs.  Dawson  seemed 
imminent,  but  she  apparently  thought  bet 
ter  of  it  and  returned  to  the  book. 

The  getting  away  was  difficult,  but  not 
nearly  so  difficult  as  staying  any  longer 
would  have  been.  They  chirped  "  good 
byes,"  and  "get  well  soons,"  and  "so 
glad  to  have  met  yous,"  galore,  and  Bige- 
low  felt  waxing  within  him  a  new  and 
passionate  love  for  his  own  family,  who 
were  all  decently  dead.  Then  they  echoed 
off  through  a  long  corridor.  After  they 
had  gone  Mrs.  Dawson  said  nothing  for 
several  minutes,  and  Dickey  made  a  noise 
with  the  fire. 

"  They  're  queer  young  men,"  she 
finally  reflected  aloud.  "  Do  you  like 
them  very  much,  Richard  ?  " 


76  HARVARD    EPISODES 

"  Oh,  yes/'  answered  Dickey,  indiffer 
ently,  "  you  get  to  like  people  you  see  a 
great  deal,  I  imagine/*  He  sat  on  the 
arm  of  his  mother's  chair  and  held  one 
of  his  mother's  hands  and  kissed  it. 

cc  I  wonder  if  you  get  to  ^//jlike  people 
you  don't  see  much  of,"  said  Mrs.  Dawson. 
She  was  turning  the  leaves  of  her  book 
without  stopping  to  look  at  them. 

"  Not  if  you  ever  truly  loved  them," 
answered  Dickey,  tenderly  drawing  nearer 
to  her  and  laying  his  cheek  against  hers. 
He  was  almost  overdoing  the  thing. 

"  Not  if  you  ever  truly  loved  them, 
I  suppose,"  thoughtfully  repeated  his 
mother  with  more  intelligence  than  Dickey 
had  ever  given  her  credit  for. 

Then  she  began  to  turn  the  leaves  of 
the  book  all  over  again. 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT 

I 

IN  some  way  or  other  it  came  to  the 
notice  of  Barrows,  the  Recording  Sec 
retary,  that  Ernest  McGaw  was  literally 
starving.  The  Secretary,  being  a  person 
of  appreciation,  immediately  gave  the 
man  food. 

"  I  'm  a  horribly  busy  creature,"  he 
said  to  McGaw;  "but  if  you'll  come 
round  to  dinner  with  me  at  the  Colonial 
Club  this  evening,  we  can  talk  about 
things/'  Of  course  McGaw  went  and 
dined  —  for  the  first  time  in  months  ;  for 
two  weeks  he  had  been  keeping  himself 
half  alive  on  oatmeal  that  he  cooked  in  a 
shallow  tin  apparatus,  over  the  lamp  he 
studied  by. 

The  Secretary  had  ridden  a  bicycle  that 
afternoon,  and  seemed  half  famished  him 
self,  which  soothed  McGaw's  raw,  quiv 
ering  sensibilities  from  the  first.  Then, 


78  HARVARD   EPISODES 

besides.  Barrows  was  probably  the  most 
genial,  natural,  receptive,  unacademic  per 
son  that  ever  answered  to  an  official  name. 
So  afterwards,  when  they  went  into  an 
unoccupied  room  upstairs,  and  the  Secre 
tary  smoked  a  cigar,  it  was  more  than 
easy  —  it  was  comforting  —  for  McGaw 
to  tell  him  the  whole  squalid  little  trag 
edy.  There  was  nothing  particularly  new 
in  it  to  the  Secretary,  since  he  was  a  gen 
tleman  who  spent  his  life  in  making  the 
struggle  easier  for  men  who  tried  to  go 
through  college  with  a  capital  consisting 
of  fourteen  cents  and  a  laudable  ambition. 
Youth  and  bitterness  in  combination  were 
some  of  the  materials  he  dealt  in.  Bar 
rows  could  have  told  the  story  of  Mc- 
Gaw's  pinched,  colourless  existence  much 
better  than  McGaw  could;  yet  for  an 
hour  or  more  he  listened,  questioned,  dis 
cussed,  and  was  moved.  Later,  when  he 
and  McGaw  parted  in  the  Yard,  the  Sec 
retary,  before  going  to  bed,  wrote  a  care 
fully  thought-out  letter  to  Sears  Wolcott 
2nd,  of  the  sophomore  class. 

Sears  Wolcott  got  the  letter  the  next 
evening,  when  he  stopped  a  moment  in 
Claverly,  on  his  way  from  the  training 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT      79 

table  to  his  club,  —  that  is  to  say,  to  one 
of  his  clubs.  He  was  a  member  of  two, 
besides,  naturally,  the  Institute,  of  whose 
privileges,  by  the  way,  he  rarely  availed 
himself.  After  dining  at  the  training  ta 
ble  with  his  class  crew,  he  usually  dropped 
in  at  his  nearest  club  to  smoke  the  one 
pipeful  allowed  him  by  his  captain.  To 
night,  however,  Barrows'  letter  put  him  in 
such  a  bad  temper  that  he  forgot  about 
his  pipe,  looked  sullen,  and  spoke  to  no 
one.  Wolcott  was  a  very  big  boy  ;  when 
he  was  angry,  he  seemed  to  swell  and  swell 
until  everything  in  the  vicinity  got  out  of 
drawing.  Nobody  but  Haydock  had 
even  noticed  him  come  in ;  the  others 
were  too  absorbed  in  drinking  their  cof 
fee  and  chattering  about  the  class  races. 
Haydock' s  greeting,  "  How  is  The  Mag 
nificent  One  this  evening?"  did  not  meet 
with  the  reception  that  encourages  further 
pleasantries.  Haydock  was  the  only 
other  man  in  the  club  who  was  not  talk 
ing  as  fast  and  as  loud  as  he  knew  how. 
But  his  quiet  was  as  different  from  The 
Magnificent  One's  as  the  placid  stillness 
of  a  summer  evening  differs  from  the 
awful  silence  in  which  one  waits  for  a  fun- 


8o  HARVARD    EPISODES 

nel-shaped  cloud  to  mature.  Haydock 
had  a  big  cigar  in  one  hand  and  a  little 
coffee-cup  in  the  other.  He  was  think 
ing  that  a  good  room  in  a  good  club, 
with  its  dark  walls,  and  all  its  leather 
chairs  and  divans  and  rugs,  with  its 
magazines  and  convenient  lights  to  read 
them  by,  with  its  absence  of  personal 
individuality,  was,  especially  just  after  din 
ner,  the  most  satisfactory  spot  in  the 
world.  Even  the  background  of  cheerful 
noise  was  agreeable.  "  As  long  as  you  're 
not  called  on  to  help  make  it,"  added 
Haydock  to  himself,  as  one  of  the  talkers 
detached  himself  from  the  others,  and, 
flourishing  a  paper  in  his  face,  called 
out:  — 

"  Who  wants  to  subscribe  to  the  Pros 
pect  Union  ? " 

Wolcott  reached  for  the  nearest  news 
paper,  and  buried  himself  in  it ;  he  could  n't 
endure  Ellis. 

"  Who  wants  to  subscribe  to  the  Pros 
pect  Union  ?  Only  a  dollar/'  repeated 
Ellis,  wiggling  his  subscription  list  before 
Wolcott's  eyes. 

"What  the  devil  is  the  Prospect 
Union  ?  "  growled  Wolcott.  He  crum- 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT      81 

pled  the  "  Transcript "  and  tossed  it  back 
on  the  table. 

"  Why,  don't  you  know  ? "  asked  Ellis, 
in  genuine  surprise.  "  I  Ve  taught  geog 
raphy  there  for  two  years." 

Wolcott  snapped  back  a  single  word. 
It  was  neither  a  pretty  word  nor  a  refined 
one ;  the  mildest  significance  one  could 
attach  to  it  was  that  Wolcott  was  scarcely 
in  sympathy  with  Ellis  or  anything  that 
was  his. 

"The  Prospect  Union,"  explained 
Haydock,  in  the  deliberate  way  that  was 
so  often  taken  seriously,  "  is  a  most  admi 
rable  educational  institution,  carried  on  in 
Cambridgeport  by  the  Harvard  under 
graduate.  It  is  elaborately  designed  to 
make  the  lower  classes  —  the  labouring 
man  —  dissatisfied  with  his  station  in  life. 
I  am  proud  to  say,  that  I  once  went  there 
every  Friday  night  for  six  months  to  teach 
two  bricklayers,  three  dry-goods  clerks, 
and  a  nigger  how  to  appreciate  the  beau 
tiful  works  of  the  late  Mr.  Keats.  I 
spoiled  their  lives,  and  they  all  love  me. 
Allow  me,  in  my  humble  way,  to  help 
the  cause."  He  rolled  a  silver  dollar  the 
length  of  the  table  to  Ellis.  Ellis  smiled, 

6 


82  HARVARD    EPISODES 

and  put  the  money  in  his  pocket ;  he  con 
sidered  Haydock  a  very  "  unmoral  "  per 
son  indeed,  but  liked  him,  and  hoped  that 
some  day  he  would  make  something  of 
himself. 

"That's  very  nice — now  who's  the 
next  patron  ?  "  the  philanthropist  went  on, 
earnestly.  "  The  Prospect  Union  is  really 
a  mighty  fine  thing.  Even  if  the  men 
down  there  don't  learn  very  much  out  of 
books,  they  can  come  there  and  see  us," 
he  had  almost  unnoticeably  emphasised 
the  "us." 

"My  God ! "  said  Wolcott,  slowly.  The 
words  and  the  way  he  sized  up  Ellis,  from 
top  to  toe,  were  heavy  with  a  sort  of 
thick-headed  contempt.  "They  can  go 
there  and  look  at  you,  can  they  ? "  Wol 
cott  muttered  the  unrefined  word  again. 
Then  he  got  up  with  an  enormous  stretch, 
yawned,  looked  at  Ellis  once  more,  and 
laughed,  as  he  went  out  of  the  room. 

Of  the  lesser  brutalities,  a  contemptu 
ous  laugh  is,  perhaps,  the  most  brutal  of 
all.  Ellis' s  thin  face  reddened.  There 
was  silence  until  the  outer  door  slammed. 

"  Damn  such  a  man  !  "  declared  Ellis,  in 
a  loud  whisper.  This  was  bold  language 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT      83 

for  him  to  speak.  Later  in  the  night,  he 
woke  up  and  thought  about  it. 

"  Oh,  I  would  n't,"  protested  Haydock, 
mildly.  "  He  's  so  magnificent.'* 

"Well,  I  can't  see  it!"  Ellis  was 
smarting;  but  he  couldn't  relieve  himself 
with  the  appropriate  sharp  retort ;  it 
did  n't  come  to  him  until  later  on,  in  bed. 
"  No  one  has  any  right  to  be  such  a  hog, 

—  especially  in  a  club.      Besides,  I  was  n't 
talking  to  him  in  particular.     He  need  n't 
have  subscribed,  if  he  did  n't  want  to ;  I 
never  expected  he  would,  although  almost 
every  one  else  has.     What's  a  dollar  any 
how  ?  "  he  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Yes,  what  is  it  ?  "  piped  a  tiny  person, 
trying  to  relieve  the  tension,  from  the 
other  side  of  the  table.  "  I  have  n't  seen 
one  since  the  first  of  last  February." 

"No,   but  seriously,"  demanded   Ellis, 

—  he    was   always   demanding   something 
seriously,  —  "what    do   you    think    of    a 
man  who  does  things  like  that,  not  only 
once,  but  every  day  —  all  the  time?  " 

"Well,  what  did  he  do?"  Haydock 
was  never  unprepared  to  take  the  other 
side  of  any  argument  in  which  Ellis  en 
gaged.  "In  the  first  place,  he  came  into 


84  HARVARD    EPISODES 

the  club  so  quietly  that  no  one  but  me 
noticed  him.  He  sat  down  and  read  his 
mail,  and  didn't  join  in  the  clatter  about 
the  class  races,  because,  knowing  some 
thing  about  the  subject,  what  the  rest  of 
you  fellows  had  to  say  probably  did  n't 
interest  him ;  and  he  is  n't  a  talkative 
person,  ever.  Well,  then  you  tried  to 
get  him  to  subscribe  to  that  foolish  night 
school  for  aesthetic  butchers.  I  confess 
his  answer  was  not — not  exactly  urbane. 
But  it's  just  possible  that  your  request 
was  ill-timed." 

"Don't  you  think  that's  one  trouble 
with  Sears  ?  "  piped  the  tiny  one,  who  had 
become  interested.  "  He  always  gives 
you  the  feeling  that  everything  you  say 
is  c  ill-timed '  !  " 

"  The  great,  big,  angry  bull  !  "  added 
Ellis.  "  And  just  the  other  day,"  he 
went  on,  suddenly  remembering  another 
of  Wolcott's  atrocities,  "he  took  a  letter 
away  from  Billy  Bemis,  held  him  off 
with  one  hand  and  began  to  read  it, — 
right  out  loud  in  the  club;  and  when  Billy 
snatched  it  away,  Wolcott  picked  him  up 
and  threw  him  clear  across  the  room  on 
to  the  divan,  and  almost  broke  his  back. 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT     85 

Now  I  don't  think  that  any  man  who 
pretends  to  be  a  gentleman — " 

"  Oh,  write  a  letter  to  the  c  Crimson ' 
about  it  —  "  yelled  some  one  who,  though 
trying  to  read  in  the  next  room,  apparently 
could  not  help  following  the  discussion. 

"He  was  probaby  feeling  his  oats  a  little 
that  day/'  suggested  Haydock,  placidly. 
"Why  shouldn't  he?  He's  just  like  a 
fine  stallion  snorting  around  a  ten-acre 
lot." 

"  Feeling  his  oats,  yes,  —  that 's  all 
right,"  sniffed  Ellis.  "  I  suppose  he  was 
feeling  his  oats  when  he  captained  his  class 
eleven,  and  used  to  curse  the  men  out 
until  everybody  talked  about  it ;  that  is,  he 
cursed  out  the  men  who  were  smaller  than 
himself —  if  it  was  n't  worth  his  while  to 
keep  on  the  right  side  of  them." 

"  For  Heaven's  sake  shut  up  !  "  came 
from  the  other  room,  a  trifle  impatiently. 

"  Are  n't  we  just  a  little  harsh?  "  asked 
some  one  who  had  been  listening  without 
joining  in. 

"  Don't  repeat  things  like  that  about 
Sears,  Johnny,  even  if  you  like  to  believe 
them,"  said  Haydock,  simply.  Haydock 
always  seemed  a  little  older  —  less  hap- 


86  HARVARD   EPISODES 

hazard  in  his  words  —  than  his  contem 
poraries,  and  never  so  much  so  as  when 
repressing  what  had  once  been  a  temper 
of  the  most  flaming  kind.  Ellis  — limited, 
conscientious,  uncompromising  — created 
countless  occasions  for  such  repression. 
He  was  a  pale  tissue  of  all  the  virtues. 
His  sobriety  was  the  kind  that  drove  men 
to  the  gutter ;  his  chastity  lowered  tem 
peratures.  Once  at  a  small  dinner  he  inad 
vertently  got  drunk  and  became  so  austere 
that  the  fellows  went  home.  To-night,  in 
running  down  a  member  of  the  club  at  the 
club,  he  had  more  than  irritated  Haydock. 
And  then  —  which  in  this  instance  was  to 
the  point  —  the  member  had  been  Wol- 
cott.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Haydock  liked 
Wolcott  as  he  liked  very  few  people. 
But  even  if  one  wasn't  fond  of  The  Mag 
nificent  One,  he  thought,  there  were  so 
many  people  all  over  the  college  who 
spent  a  generous  portion  of  their  time  in 
cursing  him, —  men  to  whom  "  Sears  Wol 
cott  "  was  the  eponym  of  snob,  and  purse- 
proud  arrogance,  —  that  in  not  sticking 
up  for  him,  or,  at  least,  in  not  knowing 
what  was  really  fine  in  him,  one  missed  a 
rare  chance  of  judging  by  standards  other 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT      87 

than  those  of  Thomas,  Richard,  and 
Henry.  Wolcott  was  a  snob,  of  course ; 
but  then  he  never  denied  the  fact,  —  he 
even  volunteered  the  information  at  times. 
And  there 's  hope  for  that  kind  of  a  snob, 
thought  Haydock. 

The  club  —  which  had  a  characteristic 
expression  for  almost  every  hour  of  the 
day  —  was  beginning  to  lose  what  Hay- 
dock  always  thought  of  as  its  "just-after- 
dinner  look."  The  men  had  finished 
their  coffee ;  some  of  them  strolled  off  to 
their  rooms  to  grind ;  others  hurried  in 
town  to  the  theatre ;  two  were  playing 
cards  rather  solemnly  in  a  corner ;  on  the 
divan,  a  worn-out  athlete  had  fallen  asleep 
over  a  comic  paper.  Haydock  finished  his 
cigar  and  went  across  to  his  room  in  Claverly. 

At  ten  o'clock,  —  Wolcott's  bedtime 
when  in  training,  —  Haydock  lit  a  pipe 
and  knocked  on  The  Magnificent  One's 
door  at  the  other  end  of  the  long  corridor. 
His  coming  at  that  hour  was  such  a 
matter  of  course,  that  the  door  had  been 
left  hospitably  unlatched  as  usual. 

"  How  was  the  rowing  to-day  ?  "  he 
asked.  The  question,  also,  was  a  matter 
of  course. 


88  HARVARD    EPISODES 

"  Damned  hard  work  !  "  Wolcott  was 
leisurely  undressing  and  dropping  his 
clothes  wherever  he  happened  to  be  when 
they  came  off.  "  About  ten  racing  starts, 
then  down  to  the  Basin  and  up  to  the 
Brighton  abattoir  and  back.  I  'm  tired." 

"  And  just  a  dash  peevish,  I  believe." 
Haydock  sat  down  on  the  floor,  and  lit 
the  shavings  and  kindling  wood  in  the  fire 
place.  Wolcott' s  rooms  were  always  as 
fresh  and  cold  as  the  weather  permitted. 

"  Oh,  Ellis  is  such  a  God  awful  fool, — 
I  'd  break  his  face  if  he  was  bigger ! " 
Wolcott  looked  at  the  fire  a  moment,  and 
thoughtfully  stroked  one  of  his  bare  arms. 
"  I  got  this,  to-night."  He  took  a  letter 
from  the  mantelpiece  and  dropped  it  into 
Haydock's  lap.  Haydock  read  it  while 
The  Magnificent  One  got  into  his  pyjamas 
before  the  fire.  The  letter  had  nothing 
whatever  to  do  with  Ellis.  Not  that 
Haydock  supposed  it  had ;  logical  se 
quence  in  any  two  of  Wolcott's  remarks 
always  surprised  him.  It  was  a  tactfully 
worded  appeal  from  Barrows,  the  Record 
ing  Secretary,  telling,  with  simple  realism 
that  somehow  or  other  stayed  by  one 
after  the  letter  was  back  in  its  envelope, 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT      89 

of  a  fine,  keen,  scholarly  fellow  in  the 
sophomore  class  who  had  been  found, 
literally  starving,  a  stone's  throw  from 
the  College  Yard. 

"  What  do  you  think,  Boy  ?  "  asked 
Wolcott,  indifferently. 

"  I  wonder  who  it  is,"  mused  Haydock. 

The  Secretary's  omission  of  the  man's 
name  hadn't  interested  Wolcott  in  the 
least. 

"  Why  did  n't  he  keep  away,  damn  his 
soul  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Well,  he  's   here,  —  that 's  the  main 
i  •       » 
thing. 

"  And  Barrows  wants  me  to  give  him  a 
yacht  and  some  polo  ponies,  and  keep  him 
in  cigars  and  golf  sticks." 

Haydock  made  an  inarticulate  sound  of 
assent  between  puffs.  He  knew  perfectly 
well  that  Wolcott  wanted  his  advice, 
that  in  his  characteristic  way  he  was  ask 
ing  it.  He  also  knew,  for  his  liking  was 
an  intelligent  one,  how  to  give  it. 

"  Well,  I  call  it  pretty  nervy,"  grumbled 
Sears. 

"  Oh,  yes  —  yes  —  it 's  nervy."  One 
simply  had  to  agree  with  Wolcott  in  all 
minor  points  in  order  to  get  anywhere. 


9o  HARVARD    EPISODES 

"  I  don't  like  to  have  my  leg  pulled 
any  more  than  anybody  else  does." 

"  No,  I  should  n't  think  you  would. 
But  I  imagine  they'd  have  difficulty  if 
they  tried  to  play  any  little  games  like  that 
with  you,"  Haydock  added,  confidently. 

No  one  objects  to  being  talked  to  this 
way  by  a  slightly  older  person  who  is  no 
fool  himself. 

"  I  'd  like  to  see  them  try !  "  growled 
the  other. 

"  They  know  better." 

"  What  do  you  call  that,  then  ?  "  Wol- 
cott  pointed  with  his  toe  to  the  letter  in 
Haydock's  lap. 

"  Oh  —  that !  "  Haydock's  manner  was 
most  off-hand,  "  that 's  merely  the  penalty 
of  prominence  and  wealth.  It 's  tiresome, 
of  course,  this  having  to  come  up  to  the 
scratch  all  your  life.  You  know  —  some 
times  I  'm  mighty  glad  I  'm  not  so  power 
ful  as  you  are  —  not  in  a  position  to  do 
as  much  for  people,  because  I  think  —  of 
course  you  never  can  tell  —  but  I  think 
I  'd  be  the  kind  of  person  to  try  to  do  it 
every  now  and  then." 

"  This  sort  of  thing  would  be  perfect 
fruit  for  you,  would  n't  it  ?  " 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT     91 

cc  I  'm  inclined  to  think  the  poor  devil 
would  stop  starving  for  a  while/' 

"  How  much  would  you  give  him,  old 
Haystack,  if  you  were  n't  such  a  dirty 
beggar  yourself?  "  After  absorbing  a  cer 
tain  amount  of  Haydock's  flattery,  Wol- 
cott  always  began  to  radiate  a  sort  of 
bantering  amiability. 

"Who  — I?  Oh,  I  don't  know!  You 
can't  very  well  send  fifteen  or  twenty  dol 
lars,  and  let  it  go  at  that,  I  suppose  ;  that 's 
too  easy.  I  'd  fix  up  some  scheme  with 
the  Secretary,  —  he  knows  all  about  that 
kind  of  thing,  —  and  keep  the  creature 
going ;  pay  on  the  instalment  plan  for 
thirty  or  forty  years,"  he  laughed,  "  you 
know,  the  way  people  do  when  they  buy  a 
piano  or  a  set  of  Kipling  —  or  any  old 
thing." 

This  was  about  as  far  as  Haydock  dared 
to  go.  He  often  wondered  how  Wolcott 
could  be  induced  to  interest  himself  in 
something  along  the  lines  suggested  by 
Barrows,  the  Secretary ;  it  was  the  in 
calculable  benefit  such  an  interest  would 
be  to  Wolcott  that  made  him  wish  it ; 
and  he  had,  as  often,  given  the  problem 
up.  For  Wolcott  took  the  initiative  in 


92  HARVARD    EPISODES 

nothing ;  he  never  had  known  the  neces 
sity  that  compels  one  to.  The  only  effort 
he  was  ever  called  on  to  make  was  that  of 
selection.  It  seemed  as  if  everything  in 
the  world  —  the  Secretary's  letter  included 

—  came  tumbling  to  crave  approval  at  the 
boy's  feet.      And  he  approved  of  so  little 

—  least  of  all,  of  the  people  (Ellis  was  one 
of  them)  who  butted  their  heads  against 
the  mighty  wall  of  his  prejudices.     Hay- 
dock,  who,  perhaps,  knew  him  better  than 
any    one     did,     was     occasionally    nimble 
enough     to     clamber     over    the    barrier. 
When  he  failed,  he  consoled  himself  with 
the  thought  that,  unlike  Ellis  and  some 
others,  his   head  was  still  intact.     For,  in 
an  odd  sort  of  way  that  suggested  the  con 
geniality  of  mind  and  matter,  the  two  were 
excellent  friends. 

"  Well,  £  I  must  go  to  bed  and  get 
strong  for  dear  old  Harvard,'  "  announced 
Wolcott,  abruptly.  He  had  once  read 
that  sentence  in  a  college  story,  and  had 
quoted  it,  with  intense  amusement,  every 
night  since. 

Haydock  leaned  against  the  doorway, 
while  The  Magnificent  One  slid  into  bed. 

"Bed's  a  good  place,  isn't   it?"    said 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT     93 

Wolcott,  cuddling  his  sunburnt  face  in  the 
pillow.  "  Oh,  Haystack,  —  I  want  to  get 
up  at  seven,  —  leave  a  note  on  my  boots 
as  you  go  out.'' 

"  Have  you  found  any  one  yet  to  tutor 
you  in  History  19?"  asked  Haydock, 
from  the  other  room,  where  he  was  scrib 
bling  a  notice  for  the  janitor. 

"  Yes,  I  start  in  to-morrow." 

"  I  did  n't  know  anybody  was  tutoring 
in  that  course  this  year.  Who  did  you 
get  ? " 

"  I  don't  know  his  name.  Oh,  yes, 
I  do,  too.  He's  a  freak  named  McGaw; 
wears  a  black  cutaway  coat  with  braid 
round  the  edge,  and  looks  nervous. 
Good-night,  old  Haystack.  Don't  forget 
the  lights." 

Before  Haydock  made  the  room  dark, 
he  took  the  Secretary's  letter  from  the 
mantelpiece,  and  put  it  on  Wolcott's  desk, 
where  it  could  not  very  well  be  over 
looked. 


II 


IF  the  primitive  custom  —  in  vogue, 
I  believe,  at  certain  colleges  —  of 
choosing  by  vote  "  the  most  popular 
man/'  "  the  most  unpopular  man/'  "  the 
handsomest  man/'  and  so  on,  were  num 
bered  among  Harvard  traditions  (thank 
Heaven,  it  is  n't !),  Wolcott  would  never 
have  been  elected  to  adorn  the  first 
of  these  distinctions.  He  would  have 
had  a  large  and  enthusiastic  backing  for 
the  second,  and  some  scattering  ballots 
for  the  third.  Yet  the  material  perqui 
sites  of  popularity  were  his,  for  Wol 
cott  presented  the  thought-compelling 
spectacle  of  a  disliked  person,  to  whom 
every  social  honour  was  paid  with  as  much 
regularity  as  if  he  had  come  to  Cambridge 
with  a  pocketful  of  promissory  notes  that 
called  for  them  —  to  be  drawn  out  and 
cashed  when  due.  One  never  said  of 
Wolcott,  as  is  said  of  some  fellows,  "  He 
made  the  first  ten  of  the  Dicky" — im- 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT      95 

plying  a  certain  amount  of  enterprise  or 
discretion.  The  assertion  that  he  was  a 
first  ten  man  required  no  implication  ;  it 
was  enough,  for  it  was  so  ordained. 
Now  this  fact  is  one  of  significance,  —  of 
greater  significance  than  any  one,  not  a 
Harvard  man,  is  likely  to  attach  to  the 
sophomore  society  (and  it  is  a  wise  Har 
vard  child  that  knows  the  mother  of  its 
soul).  But  just  why  Wolcott  —  arro 
gant,  combative,  unresponsive  —  had  been 
a  first  ten  man,  is  for  a  treatise,  not  a 
story.  It  is  sufficient  to  say  that  he  was 
one,  and  that  it  never  occurred  to  his 
numerous  acquaintances  to  question  his 
individual  fitness  for  that  honour,  how 
ever  much  they  lamented  the  system  that 
gave  it  to  him.  Wolcott  himself  never 
questioned  it.  Only  in  the  circumstance 
of  his  having  been  omitted  from  the 
chosen  first,  would  the  subject  have 
seemed  to  him  in  any  way  markworthy. 
His  attitude  from  babyhood  towards  any 
thing  worth  having,  that  he  did  n't  already 
possess,  had  been  one  of  imminent  pro 
prietorship.  Once  when  his  nurse,  hold 
ing  him  up  to  the  window,  had  asked  in 
the  peculiarly  imbecile  way  of  nurses, 


96  HARVARD    EPISODES 

"  Whose  moon  is  that,  Searsy  ?  "  Searsy 
had  replied,  as  one  compelled  to  explain 
the  obvious,  "That's  Mr.  Langdon  Wol- 
cott's  moon."  The  gentleman  referred  to 
was  his  father.  This  attitude  Searsy  had 
practised  through  the  nursery,  and  the 
fitting  school,  until,  by  the  time  he  went 
to  college,  it  was  an  exceedingly  muscu 
lar,  well-developed  posture  indeed.  And 
that 's  partly  why  he  was  called  Wolcott 
The  Magnificent.  The  other  reason  pro 
voked  less  difference  of  opinion  ;  he  really 
was  magnificent.  Everybody  who  knew 
about  arms,  and  legs,  and  chests,  and 
things,  agreed  that  he  was.  And  as  the 
people  who  don't  know  about  such  things 
always  have  a  deep  admiration  —  either 
frank  or  sneaking  —  for  them,  Sears's 
imperial  subtitle  was  rarely  disputed.  As 
early  as  the  close  of  his  freshman  year, 
the  name  spread  to  town.  Girls  with 
opera-glasses  used  to  sit  at  back  dining- 
room  windows  on  the  water-side  of  Bea 
con  Street  to  see  him  row  past  with  his 
crew.  They  took  the  same  tender  inter 
est  in  the  way  the  April  sun  and  wind 
tanned  his  back,  that  a  freshman  takes 
in  colouring  a  meerschaum  pipe.  In  years 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT      97 

gone  by,  Wolcott  and  these  young  ladies 
had  —  in  the  good  Boston  fashion  — 
cemented  their  acquaintance  with  the  mud 
that  pies  are  made  of.  But  wonderful 
things  had  happened  since  then ;  a  lot  of 
little  girls,  with  piano  legs  and  pigtails, 
had  put  their  skirts  down  and  their  hair 
up  ;  a  chunky,  dictatorial  boy  had  become 
very  magnificent. 

Altogether,  Sears  was  not  the  sort  of 
fellow  over  whose  welfare  one  would 
expect  to  find  many  people  worrying. 
There  would  seem  to  be  but  little  cause 
for  anxiety  about  a  man  who  knew  how 
to  spend  an  enormous  allowance  sensibly, 
—  if  selfishly,  —  who,  on  the  whole,  pre 
ferred  to  be  in  training  most  of  the  year 
rather  than  out  of  it,  who  rarely  fell  be 
low  what  he  called  a  "gentleman's  mark  " 
in  any  of  his  studies,  and  who,  as  a  mat 
ter  of  course,  was  given  every  social 
distinction  in  the  power  of  the  under 
graduate  world  to  bestow ;  yet  there  were 
several  very  intelligent  human  beings, 
who,  when  they  thought  about  Sears  — 
and  they  thought  a  good  deal  about  him 
every  day  —  did  not  meditate  so  much  on 
what  he  had,  as  on  what  he  so  abundantly 
7 


98  HARVARD    EPISODES 

lacked.  They  wished  that  things  were 
different.  And  Haydock  used  to  say  that 
worrying  was  merely  wishing  two  or  three 
times  in  succession  that  things  were  dif 
ferent.  One  of  these  persons  was  Sears' s 
eldest  sister,  another  of  them  was  Hay- 
dock. 

Miss  Wolcott  was  the  sort  of  Boston 
girl  that  dresses  like  a  penwiper,  and  be 
comes  absorbed  in  associated  charities  after 
a  second  lugubrious  season.  In  the  patois 
of  her  locality,  she  was  called  a  "  pill ;  "  a 
girl  whom  Harvard  men  carefully  avoid 
until  it  is  rumoured  that  her  family  shortly 
intends  to  "  give  something "  in  the  pa 
ternal  pill-box.  Whereas,  prior  to  her  re 
nunciation,  dozens  of  Harvard  men  had 
been  part  of  Miss  Wolcott's  responsi 
bility,  her  concern  was  now  centred  upon 
one,  namely,  her  brother  Sears.  She  and 
Haydock,  unknown  to  each  other,  had 
found  the  same  reason  for  wishing  things 
different.  After  making  each  other's  ac 
quaintance,  they  worried  congenially  in 
chorus.  In  their  opinion  Sears  was  not 
getting  out  of  Harvard  College  the  great 
est  things  Harvard  College  had  to  offer. 
They  did  not  expect  him  to  see  them, 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT     99 

—  that  would  have  been  demanding  too 
much ;  the  undergraduate  who  sees  them 
is  an  extremely  occasional,  precocious,  and, 
as  a  rule,  objectionable  person.      But  they 
wished  earnestly  that  the  boy  might,  some 
how  or  other,  be  put  in  the  way  of  feeling 
them  —  of  realising,  even  dimly,  that  the 
world   to  which   he   had  lent  himself  for 
four    years    was    something    besides    two 
small  clubs,  a  fashionable  dormitory,  and 
a  class  crew.     They  wanted  him  to  know, 
for  instance,  that  the  steady,  commonplace 
stream  that  flowed  to  five  o'clock  dinners 
in     Memorial    Hall,    the    damp,    throat- 
clearing,   tired  mobs   that  packed  Lower 
Massachusetts  on  wet  Monday  afternoons 
and  smelled,  the  indefinite  hundreds  that 
sat  at  dusk  on  the  grass  in  front  of  Hoi- 
worthy  to  hear  the  Glee  Club  sing,  were 
as   necessary,  as  real,  as    himself.     They 
thought  that  such  a  conviction,  or  even 
such    a    suspicion,    would    make   Sears    a 
bigger  and  a  better  man.     They  believed 

—  knowing,  as  they  did,  how   inevitable 

was  the  general  scheme   of  his  future 

that  if  the  glimmer  of  these  things  did 
not    dawn   now,   when   the    horizon    that 
bounded  them  all  ended  with  the  college 


ioo  HARVARD    EPISODES 

fence,  it    never   would.     And  they   were 
perfectly  right. 

"  Searsy  is  really  such  a  splendid  fellow," 
Miss  Wolcott  would  say  to  Haydock,  with 
enthusiasm,  "  I  want  him  to  do  some 
thing."  Haydock,  too,  wanted  him  to 
do  something.  But  they  never  got  much 
beyond  that,  although  they  had  many 
satisfactory  discussions  on  the  subject  on 
Sunday  afternoons,  while  Mrs.  Wolcott 
and  the  younger  sisters  (who  were  n't  fail 
ures)  made  tea  and  conversation  for  frock- 
coated  youths  in  the  next  room.  It  was 
perplexing  to  know  just  where  to  begin 
with  a  person  like  Sears.  Miss  Wolcott 
laboured  under  a  disadvantage  ;  Sears  was 
not  the  person  to  take  suggestions  from  a 
failure.  Haydock  was  more  to  the  point. 
But  he  and  Wolcott  were  of  an  age  and  a 
class ;  and  it 's  so  easy  to  be  a  bore. 

The  Secretary's  letter  struck  Haydock 
as  one  of  the  few  distinctly  opportune  re 
quests  for  money  he  had  ever  heard  of. 
After  he  had  put  out  Wolcott's  lights,  he 
walked  up  and  down  his  own  room,  smok 
ing  his  pipe  and  thinking  it  over.  There 
were  several  possible  outcomes  to  the  lit 
tle  situation.  An  act  of  chanty  may  be 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT    101 

ignored,  it  may  be  performed  with  the 
enthusiasm  with  which  one  pays  a  bill  for 
a  suit  of  clothes  long  since  worn  out,  or  it 
may  stir  up  a  confusion  of  fine  emotions 
that  have  lain  quiescent  in  one,  like  the 
dregs  of  a  comfortable  bottle.  The  latter 
kind  of  charity  is  the  sin-coverer.  The 
chances  were  that  Wolcott  would  never 
think  of  Barrows  and  his  man  again.  It 
was  just  possible  that  he  might  send  them 
a  cheque  for  fifty  dollars,  and  be  unbear 
able  for  the  next  three  days.  But  as  for 
his  being  in  any  way  stirred,  awakened, 
made  to  know  what  he  was  doing,  to 
wonder  what  he  might  do,  Hay  dock  felt, 
away  down  deep  somewhere,  that  it  was 
quite  hopeless.  And  for  that  reason, 
the  mind  of  man  being  so  contrived,  his 
thoughts  dwelt  that  night,  as  they  often 
did,  on  an  apotheosised  Wolcott,  a  Wol 
cott  who  justified  himself,  who  did  n't 
disappoint,  a  Wolcott  whose  sympathies 
and  judgments  were  as  broad  as  his 
shoulders,  a  Wolcott,  in  short,  whose 
inside  was  brother  to  his  outside. 

When  Sears  got  up  the  next  morning, 
he  "puttered  among  dishes  in  his  bed 
room," —  a  thing  he  usually  detested, — 


102  HARVARD   EPISODES 

instead  of  going  down  to  the  tank  for  a 
swim.  He  had  stopped  his  morning 
plunge  of  late,  because,  since  he  had  begun 
to  get  up  early,  he  almost  always  met  Ellis 
in  the  tank.  Ellis  was  an  offensively  clean 
person  ;  he  bathed  with  much  unnecessary 
splashing,  and  changed  his  shirt  with  a 
flourish  of  trumpets.  His  noisy  ablutions 
got  on  Wolcott's  nerves.  To-day  the 
peacefulness  of  Sears's  own  room,  and  the 
indescribable  beauty  of  the  College  Yard, 
—  spring  in  Cambridge  comes  to  the  Yard 
first,  —  as  he  walked  to  and  from  break 
fast,  combined  to  put  him  in  one  of  his 
best  moods,  —  one  which  expressed  itself 
in  a  slow  exuberance  of  spirits,  a  persistent, 
obstinate  bantering  of  everybody  and 
everything  that,  although  far  removed 
from  ill-humour,  was  not  yet  mirth. 
When  at  nine  o'clock  there  was  a  knock 
on  his  door,  Sears,  instead  of  saying, 
"  Come  in,"  called  out  the  long,  unspell- 
able  "  Ay-y-y-y-y,"  one  hears  so  many 
times  a  day  around  college ;  when  he 
looked  up  and  saw  McGaw,  the  tutor, 
standing  in  the  doorway,  his  manner  did 
not  change. 

"  Hello  !  —  sorry  to  see  you  !  "  he  said, 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT    103 

without  rising.  "  I  don't  feel  much  like 
it  this  morning."  McGaw  fingered  his 
note-book  uneasily.  "  But  come  in,  any 
how —  I  suppose  I  have  to,"  added  Wol- 
cott  noticing  with  a  smile  that  the  tutor 
thought  he  had  been  dismissed.  "  Don't 
sit  tiiere  ;  it 's  a  rotten  sofa.  Sit  over  by 
the  window  and  smoke." 

"  I  don't  smoke,  thank  you,"  said 
McGaw,  sitting  down  where  he  had  been 
told  to. 

"  What 's  the  matter  ;  are  you  in  train 
ing  ?  "  Let  it  be  said,  to  Wolcott's  credit, 
thit  the  irony  of  his  question  was  uncon 
scious,  and,  to  his  discredit,  that  the 
chuckle  with  which  he  greeted  his  own 
wo-ds  as  soon  as  their  absurdity  dawned 
on  him  was  pointed  and  uncontrolled. 
Ht  had  asked  McGaw  if  he  was  in  train 
ing,  because  the  question  naturally  fol- 
loved  a  refusal  to  drink  or  smoke;  its 
inappropriateness  flashed  upon  him  after- 
wa-ds.  Nothing  short  of  incongruity, 
stnking,  absolute,  could  make  Sears  laugh 
as  he  was  laughing  now.  McGaw  in 
training !  That  hatchet  -  faced,  slant- 
shouldered,  chestless,  leggy,  comic  valen 
tine  whose  neck  and  wrists  and  ankles 


104  HARVARD    EPISODES 

refused  to  desist  where  his  clothes  left  off, 
—  in  training !  Sears  twisted  half-way 
round  that  he  might  have  a  better  look  at 
the  tutor,  and,  throwing  his  legs  over  the 
arm  of  his  huge  leather  chair,  he  shook  with 
amusement.  Then  a  slow,  disconcerting 
wave  of  regret  for  what  he  had  done  crept 
over  him  ;  it  made  him  warm,  and  pricked 
painfully  among  the  roots  of  his  hair,  It 
left  him  all  at  once  with  nothing  to  say. 
McGaw  opened  his  note-book  and  stared 
at  it  blindly.  Two  brilliant  spots  of  pink 
tipped  his  high  cheek-bones. 

"Let's  begin,"  said  Wolcott,  gruffly. 

"  How  much  do  you  know  of  the  sub 
ject?"  asked  McGaw,  in  a  voice  that 
might  have  come  from  an  automaton. 

"  Nothing." 

"  Do  you  know  any  Latin  ?  " 

"  Damned  little  !  " 

The  tutor  drummed  thoughtfully  wth 
his  finger-tips  on  the  note-book. 

"  Perhaps  you  'd  better  get  some  writhg 
materials  and  take  down  the  main  head 
ings,"  he  suggested.  "  It's  an  aid  to  tke 
memory."  He  looked  fixedly  out  of  tie 
window  into  a  mist  of  young  green,  while 
Sears  rummaged  all  over  the  room.  It 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT    105 

was  some  time  before  he  could  find  paper 
of  any  kind ;  his  desk  was  heavy  with  a 
variety  of  silver-topped  Christmas  presents, 
but  lacking  in  any  of  the  essentials  for 
study.  He  succeeded,  finally,  in  produc 
ing  from  a  drawer  some  undersized  note- 
paper,  with  the  number  of  his  room 
stamped  in  blue  at  the  top.  McGaw 
furnished  the  pencil.  Then  began  a 
travesty  on  education  that  was,  no  doubt, 
being  enacted  in  any  number  of  rooms  at 
Harvard,  at  that  identical  hour.  The 
keen-faced,  hectic-looking  tutor,  with  his 
exhaustive  notes,  nervously  outlined  a 
period  of  the  world's  history,  the  impor 
tance  of  which  both  he  and  Wolcott 
considered  only  in  its  relation  to  the 
final  examinations.  Charlemagne's  reign, 
looked  at  as  something  of  a  stride  in  the 
march  of  progress,  would  have  bored 
Sears  and  frittered  away  McGaw's  time. 
Had  popes  and  kings  been  for  an  instant 
regarded  as  more  than  names  with  a  post 
script  of  Roman  numerals  and  dates, 
Wolcott's  brain  would  have  struck,  and 
the  tutor's  imagination  would  have  creaked, 
in  the  exercise  of  a  disused  function. 
Queens,  treaties,  battles,  diets,  bulls, 


106  HARVARD    EPISODES 

crownings,  and  decapitations  —  for  two 
Stirling  hours,  McGaw  shovelled  them 
into  Wolcott,  until  he  sweat  like  a  stoker. 
And  Sears,  phlegmatic,  colossal,  consumed 
them  all  like  an  ogre  at  his  dinner.  From 
time  to  time,  he  changed  his  seat  and 
began  afresh  ;  it  was  as  if  he  were  setting 
his  teeth  to  keep  the  mess  down  until  he 
could  disgorge  it  —  the  facts  of  five  hun 
dred  years  —  on  his  blue  book.  Only 
once  did  he  interrupt,  and  show,  by  ask 
ing  a  child's  question  about  the  unfortu 
nate  emperor  forced  to  stand  barefooted 
in  the  snow  all  night,  that  any  of  these 
facts  were  attached  in  his  mind  to  human 
beings.  Since  he  had  come  to  Harvard, 
Wolcott  had  done  this  sort  of  thing 
before  every  midyear  and  final  examina 
tion  period.  He  intended  to  keep  on 
doing  it  until,  at  the  end  of  four  years, 
the  President  and  Faculty  would  say  to 
him,  in  a  communication  that  crackled 
deliciously  when  its  pink  ribbons  were 
untied  :  —  "  Sears  (or  perhaps  "  Sear- 
olus")  Wolcott)  2nd,  alumnum  ad  gradum 
Baccalaurei  in  Art'ibus  admisimus,  eique  dedi- 
mus  et  concessimus  omnia  insignia  et  jura  ad 
hunc  honor  em  spectantia" 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT 


107 


After  two  hours,  McGaw  closed  his 
book,  Sears  dropped  his  notes  and  pencil 
on*  the  floor,  and  leaned  back  with  his 
arms  above  his  head.  The  soft  spring 
air,  enervating  with  the  smell  of  damp 
earth  and  new  leaves,  was  finding  its  way 
up  through  the  open  windows.  The 
tutor  rubbed  his  strained  eyes  wearily ;  he 
had  something  more  to  say  connected  with 
the  examination,  but  for  the  moment  he 
could  n't  recall  it. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  said  abruptly  ;  "  we  'd 
better  leave  the  Latin  documents  until 
the  end.  Most  of  them  are  translated  in 
Van  Witz's  c  Mediaeval  Records.'  I  ad 
vise  you  to  buy  the  volume  and  begin  to 
look  it  over  by  yourself." 

"  I  wish  you  'd  get  it  for  me,"  Wolcott 
answered,  after  a  moment  in  which  he 
decided  that  the  effort  of  picking  up  his 
pencil  and  paper  and  writing  down  the 
title  was  too  great. 

"  I  suppose  I  could,"  said  McGaw, 
slowly.  He  knew  very  well  that  he 
could  n't ;  he  did  n't  have  the  necessary 
dollar. 

"Yes,  bring  it  round  next  time  you  come; 
there  's  plenty  of  time,"  added  Sears. 


io8  HARVARD   EPISODES 

To  almost  any  one  else,  McGaw  would 
have  had  no  difficulty  in  saying,  "  I  wish 
you    would    get    it    yourself."       But    he 
shrank  from  what  he  imagined  would  be 
Wolcott's    reception    of  such    a    request. 
For  from   the  time  he  had  come  into  the 
room,  and  found  his  big  pupil  sprawling 
unconcernedly  in  the  middle  of  it,  the  tutor 
had  been  in  a  whirl  of  uneasiness  and  re 
sentment.       Wolcott's  study  was    a  very 
masculine,   almost    an   austere  apartment. 
But  it  was   simple  with  the  simplicity  that 
costs  a  great  deal  of  money.     Its  plain  hard 
woods  and  dull  green  leather  overpowered 
McGaw;  the  solid  aggressiveness  of  Wol- 
cott    himself    angered    him.       Both    the 
tutor's     environment     and    his    audience 
repelled  an  admission  of  poverty.     In^his 
embarrassment  at  having  to  say  anything, 
he  said  it  all,  nervously  blurting  out : 

"  I  'm  afraid  you  '11  have  to  get  it  your 
self.  It's  an  expensive  book;  I  can't 
afford  it." 

"Why,  that's  all  right/  said  sears, 
heartily ;  "  what 's  the  name  of  the  thing  ?  " 
He  was  as  ill  at  ease  as  McGaw  himself, 
now,  and  his  abrupt  note  of  sincerity  was 
decidedly  awkward.  The  tutor,  of  course, 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT    109 

immediately  discovered  the  intent  to  pat 
ronise,  that,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  was  not 
there.  His  hatred  of  Wolcott  dated  itself 
from  that  instant. 

After  McGaw  was  well  out  of  the 
building,  Sears  would  have  strolled  aim 
lessly  down  into  the  sunshine  —  he  never 
stayed  in  his  room  any  more  than  was 
necessary  —  had  he  not  come  across  the 
Secretary's  letter  when  he  went  to  his 
desk  to  put  away  the  notes  he  had  just 
taken.  He  reread  this  document,  with 
what  is  conveniently  known  as  "  mingled 
emotions."  That  is  to  say,  his  impatience 
at  the  Secretary's  "  nerve  "  diffused  itself, 
as  he  read,  in  a  vague  inclination  to  know 
exactly  what  Barrows  wanted  him  to  do. 
He  would  not  for  anything  have  acknowl 
edged,  even  to  himself,  that  his  two  hours 
with  McGaw  had  brought  about  this 
frame  of  mind,  which  in  Sears  was 
almost  equivalent  to  mellowness.  He 
preferred  to  think  that  Haydock's  opin 
ions  were  worth  respecting.  But,  never 
theless,  it  was  McGaw  with  his  pinched, 
hectic,  angular,  hunted  personality,  all 
sticking  out  of  a  scant,  tightly-buttoned 
cutaway  coat,  that  had  induced  Sears,  by 


no  HARVARD    EPISODES 

some  curiously  indirect  mental  process,  to 
reread  the  letter  in  the  first  place.  For, 
after  all,  Wolcott  was  a  gentleman,  if  an 
extremely  young  one,  and  when  he  hurt 
people's  feelings,  as  he  very  often  did,  he 
always  felt  uncomfortable  about  it  after 
wards.  Not  that  his  discomfort  brought 
him  to  the  point  of  an  apology,  —  some 
day,  perhaps,  it  might.  But  then,  if  he 
ever  became  softened  to  that  extent  he 
probably  would  n't  offend  any  one  in  the 
first  place.  He  read  the  Secretary's  busi 
ness-like  statements  about  the  man  whose 
breakfasts  and  luncheons  and  dinners 
were  oatmeal,  oatmeal,  and  oatmeal,  and 
a  little  milk  —  condensed  milk.  But  it 
was  McGaw  himself  who  managed  to 
put  the  breath  of  life  into  the  written 
pages,  and  make  the  man  they  told  about 
seem  any  more  vital  than  Charlemagne 
or  Martin  Luther;  words  alone  rarely 
told  Wolcott  much.  McGaw's  glowing 
cheek-bones,  his  drawn,  sensitive  mouth, 
and  stringy  clothes  were  pleading  his  own 
cause,  unknown  to  himself,  to  Wolcott, 
or  to  the  Secretary. 

Sears  put  down  the  letter  and  drew  a 
sheet    of  the    little    note-paper    to    him. 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT    in 

Then,  after  beating  a  preliminary  tattoo, 
that  sounded  like  the  clicking  of  a  tele 
graph  instrument,  with  his  pen,  he  wrote 
to  Barrows  :  "  I  shall  be  glad  to  do  what 
I  can  for  your  man ;  but  you  must  tell  me 
what  it  is  you  want  me  to  do.  Can  I  see 
you  some  time  and  talk  it  over  ?  "  On 
his  way  out  to  post  the  note,  he  met 
Haydock. 

"  I  bet  you  'd  like  to  know  what 's  in 
side  this,  Haystack,"  he  said,  thrusting 
the  envelope  into  his  friend's  face  and 
chuckling  inscrutably.  Haydock  looked 
at  the  address. 

"  You  '11  tell  me  some  day,"  he  an 
swered  confidently.  Wolcott  jerked  his 
note  away.  His  reply  was  :  — 

"  I  '11  be  damned  if  I  do  !  "  He  meant 
what  he  said  at  the  time  because  he  knew 
Haydock  was  interested  and  thought  he 
could  tease  him.  As  a  rule,  he  found  it 
impossible  to  tease  Haydock,  unless  he 
pulled  his  hair  or  knocked  him  down. 


Ill 


AFTER  one  has  been  out  of  college 
long  enough  to  reckon  time  by  a 
calendar,  instead  of  by  the  college  catalogue, 
May  and  June  are  sprightly  preludes  to 
all  one's  operas  unsung.  But  when  the 
year  counts  nine  months,  instead  of  twelve, 
spring  is  a  climax.  At  Harvard,  it  comes 
in  a  misty  veil  of  young  elm  leaves  and 
apple  blossoms  that  floats,  for  a  time, 
with  the  sweetest  deception  in  the  world, 
between  you  and  every  other  disagreeable 
fact.  It  envelops  you,  permeates  you, 
seduces  you,  and  makes  you  drunk ; 
yet,  as  hour  after  hour  (and  lecture  after 
lecture)  drifts  past  your  open  window,  or 
your  canoe,  or  the  sun-flecked  lawn  under 
the  trees  in  the  Yard,  where  you  lie  and 
watch  the  industrious  robins  rip  elastic 
angle-worms  from  the  sod,  you  believe 
that  you  have  awakened  for  the  first  time, 
—  that  the  problem  has  at  last  solved 
itself.  You  are  as  blind  as  a  poet,  and 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT    113 

you  laugh  and  wonder  why  you  never  saw 
before.  Had  not  the  only  verse  been 
written,  you  would  write  it :  "  Come  .  .  . 
sit  by  my  side  and  let  the  world  slip ;  we 
shall  ne'er  be  younger." 

But  in  spite  of  all  this,  these  first  spring 
days,  that  incline  one  to  look  upon  the 
immoral  sense  as  a  sort  of  hibernating 
beast,  are  not  beginnings  but  the  end.  A 
feeling  as  of  many  things  happening  at 
once  comes  over  you.  There  is  much  to 
do,  and  no  time  whatever  in  which  to  do 
it.  The  College  is  in  a  hurry.  It  crashes 
along  toward  the  Finals  and  Class  Day, 
carrying  you  with  it  in  spite  of  you.  No 
single  activity  in  which  you  may  engage 
seems  in  itself  of  utmost  importance.  But 
the  sum  total  crowds  your  days  and  nights 
with  the  interests  of  rowing  and  base-ball, 
and  the  First  Ten,  and  the  perennial 
squabbles  of  the  three  clubs  in  their  efforts 
to  pledge  the  most  attractive  of  the  neo 
phytes  to  join  their  respective  institutions 
(which,  unless  the  neophytes  are  very 
sensible  young  men,  does  n't  tend  to  make 
them  any  more  attractive),  and  the  great 
Spring  Dinners,  when  the  graduates  come 
back  and  meet  all  the  new  men  and  sing 


n4  HARVARD    EPISODES 

songs  and  drink  drinks  (or  is  it  the  other 
way  ?),  and  forget  that  they  have  ever  been 
away  from  Harvard  at  all,  and  the  dinners 
of  the  college  papers,  —  "  The  Monthly" 
(roistering  blades),  at  some  modest  tavern  ; 
and  "The  Advocate,"  at  Marliave's,  per 
haps,  with  nothing  in  particular  to  eat,  but 
with  all  that  easy  indifference  to  the  fra 
gility  of  crockery  by  which    the    artistic 
temperament  makes  itself  heard;    "The 
Crimson "    (typographical    remonstrance), 
enjoying  itself  somewhere  in  its  strange, 
reproachful  way  ;  and  the  "  Only  Success 
ful,"  "  The  Lampoon,"  at  The  Empire  or 
The  Tuileries,  laughing  all  night  regardless 
of  expense.     Then    there    is    Strawberry 
Night  at  the  Signet,  when  the  First  Seven, 
from  the  Sophomore  Class  is  taken  in,  — 
Haydockand  Ellis  were  on  the  First  Seven, 
—  and  the  O.  K.  dinner  (Hush-h-h-h-h  !), 
when   the    First    Eight    from   the    Junior 
Class  is  initiated,  and  Strawberry  Night  at 
the  Pudding,  and  the  "Pop"   Concerts, 
and  Riverside,  and  a  thousand  other  de 
lightful  happenings.     None  of  them  are 
of  supreme  importance,  I  suppose.     But 
they  combine  to  whirl  certain  men  through 
May  and  part  of  June  on  a  strong,  swift 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT    115 

current  of  Harvard  life  that  deposits  them, 
after  Class  Day  and  Commencement, 
somewhere  high  and  dry  and  —  although 
they  may  not  know  it  themselves  —  home 
sick  for  Cambridge. 

Even  the  mildest,  farthest-meandering 
eddies  of  this  current  do  not  reach  the 
type  of  student  to  which  McGaw  belonged  ; 
McGaw  knew  nothing  of  them.  He  had 
not  gone  to  college  to  drift  with  the  stream. 
He  was  there,  primarily,  to  acquire  in 
formation  along  certain  lines  laid  out  in 
the  curriculum,  incidentally  to  fight  hun 
ger  and  cold  and  darkness.  If  he  could 
be  "  sandy "  and  healthy  and  lucky 
enough  to  stick  it  out  for  four  years,  he 
would  have,  at  the  end,  concealed  some 
where  about  his  person,  that  distinction  (of 
many  differences),  —  a  college  education. 
"  Sand  "  he  had,  —  an  incredible  amount  of 
it.  But  the  trait  had  bid  fair  to  destroy 
his  health  before  it  discovered  his  luck. 
For  to  stay  where  he  was  at  all,  and  slave 
with  his  mind,  often  obliged  him  first  to 
exhaust  and  stultify  himself  with  the 
manual  labour  of  a  lout.  He  had  taken 
care  of  furnace  fires,  cleaned  cellars  and 
backyards,  shovelled  snow,  and  cut  grass, 


u6  HARVARD    EPISODES 

until  these  varied  avocations,  together 
with  the  remarkable  work  he  did  in  his 
studies,  and  the  farcical  meals  he  cooked 
himself,  broke  him  down  and  sent  him  in 
a  semi-hysterical,  wholly  pitiful  state  to 
the  kindly  Barrows.  And  Barrows,  con 
vinced  that  he  did  not  belong  to  the  many 
"grinds/'  —  of  such  admirable  purpose 
and  tragic  mediocrity,  —  who  made  the 
Secretary's  office  one  of  constant  anguish, 
hit  upon  an  inspiration.  Of  late,  it  had 
seemed  positively  Heaven-sent.  Wolcott 
had  come  to  him,  and  said,  in  a  manner 
that  combined  a  child's  shyness  with  the 
omnipotence  of  a  crowned  head  who  be 
lieves  in  the  divine  right  of  kings,  "  I  wish 
you  would  tell  me  just  what  I  'm  to  do  for 
this  man  you  wrote  me  about/'  Barrows 
was  gratified,  amused,  and,  perhaps,  a  trifle 
worried.  His  half  hour  with  Sears,  like  a 
good  deal  of  the  time  spent  in  The  Mag 
nificent  One's  company,  rather  baffled  the 
Secretary.  Wolcott's  method  of  doing 
charity  was  in  itself  extraordinary.  Fur 
thermore,  as  far  as  Barrows  could  see, — 
and  he  was  keen , —  there  was  no  particular 
motive  for  the  act.  Compassion  was  lack 
ing  ;  what  little  Sears  said  was  impersonal, 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT    117 

almost  cold.  Vanity,  smug  self-apprecia 
tion,  there  was  none  ;  the  fellow  neither 
enjoined  theatrical  conditions  of  secrecy, 
nor  showed  ill-concealed  eagerness  to  shine 
his  light  before  men.  The  personal  equa 
tion  was  eliminated.  Wolcott  indicated 
nothing  but  a  princely  willingness  to  under 
take  and  carry  out  whatever  the  situation 
required.  As  a  matter  of  temporary  con 
venience,  he  told  Barrows  he  preferred 
sending  the  man  a  monthly  allowance, 
to  giving  any  particular  sum  at  the 
start. 

"  Tell  him  to  spend  his  money  and — 
and  eat  things,"  was  perhaps  his  most 
specific  suggestion. 

Haydock,  of  course,  was  deeply  inter 
ested  in  his  quiet  fashion.  Sears  told 
him  the  bald  facts  in  a  casual,  indifferent 
way  one  afternoon  when  he  was  changing 
his  clothes  to  row.  The  interview  with 
the  Secretary,  Haydock  was  forced  to  re 
construct  as  best  he  could. 

"Are  you  going  to  keep  it  up  right 
along  ?  "  he  asked,  sceptically. 

"  Why  not  ? "  Sears's  tone  implied  the 
usual  chip  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Well,  it 's  very  good  of  you,"  com- 


n8  HARVARD   EPISODES 

mented  the  other,  with  almost  impercep 
tible  exaggeration. 

"  Oh,  hell !  —  now  you  're  giving  me 
the  geehee ;  I  can  tell  that  even  if  I 
can't  write  anonymous  sonnets  for  the 
'  Monthly.'  '  He  gave  Haydock  one  of 
his  athletic  tributes  of  affection.  "  You 
know  there 's  nothing  good  about  it. 
What  difference  does  it  make  ? " 

Yet  in  spite  of  Wolcott's  characteristic 
attitude  to  his  indigent  unknown,  —  it  was 
equivalent,  briefly,  to  a  shrug  of  the  shoul 
ders,  —  the  two  dropped  into  the  habit 
of  talking  together  about  him.  They 
referred  to  him  after  a  time  as  "  It,"  or 
"Croesus,"  or  "The  Bloated  Bond 
holder  ;  "  and  one  of  Wolcott's  favourite 
amusements  was  to  describe  in  detail,  with 
an  idiotic  brilliancy  of  invention  that  Hay- 
dock  had  never  given  him  credit  for, 
what  "  It "  was  doing  at  that  particular 
moment. 

"  c  It '  must  be  dressing  for  dinner, 
don't  you  think  ?  "  Sears  would  ask,  apro 
pos  of  nothing  at  all. 

"  Oh,  do  you  think  so,  —  at  six 
o'clock  ?  "  Haydock  would  take  out  his 
watch,  and  deliberate  seriously,  "  You  see 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT    119 

he  dines  at  eight,  probably,  and  that  gives 
him  just  time  to  get  away  from  the  Somer 
set  and  take  in  the  last  few  numbers  at 
the  (  Pop  '  Concert." 

"  Yes,  —  he  won't  care  for  long  dinners 
this  warm  weather,"  Sears  would  add ; 
"some  clams,  a  clear  soup,  a  bird, 
a  truffle  or  two,  salad  perhaps ;  all  a 
man  really  needs  of  course,  but  nothing 
heavy  or  elaborate." 

Or  again :  "  c  It '  had  better  hurry  up 
and  put  that  boat  of  his  into  commis 
sion  if  he  wants  to  get  to  Poughkeepsie 
for  the  race." 

"  Will  he  go  round  with  her  ?  "  Hay- 
dock  would  consider  doubtfully. 

"  Oh,  dear,  no  ;  he  '11  take  his  car  and 
meet  her  there.  That  sailing  master  of 
his  is  a  capital  man,  —  perfectly  invaluable 
he's  been  to  Croesus.  You  remember 
that  spring  on  the  Mediterranean  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes,  of  course,  that  time  !  " 

After  some  such  elaborate  bit  of  fool 
ing,  Wolcott  would  roll  on  the  floor  in 
paroxysms  of  mirth.  And  all  the  while 
McGaw  and  Wolcott  were  spending  sev 
eral  hours  a  week  in  the  same  room, 
translating  from  the  same  page.  Once 


120  HARVARD    EPISODES 

when  Haydock  tiptoed  in  during  a  semi 
nar  to  borrow  something,  Sears  glanced 
up  from  the  Latin  Documents  and  said : 

"  Crcesus  has  had  a  mighty  pretty  lot 
of  ponies  sent  up  from  Virginia,"  and 
Haydock  had  answered,  as  he  rummaged 
through  the  desk  :  — 

"  Good  work, —  I  '11  have  to  look  them 
over." 

Long  practice  had  perfected  the  tech 
nique  of  their  little  game  ;  its  suggestion 
of  mindless  opulence  was  maddening  to 
McGaw.  He  had  very  bitter  feelings 
sometimes.  Of  late  they  had  all  come 
to  an  intense  sort  of  focus  upon  Sears. 
For  in  him  McGaw  was  able  to  detect 
every  human  attribute  that  he  especially 
hated.  Sears,  on  the  other  hand,  though 
naturally  inclined  to  regard  the  tutor  as 
a  serviceable,  if  unsightly,  machine,  became 
used  to  his  high-strung,  underfed,  person 
ality.  He  would  talk  to  him  now  and 
then,  when  the  effort  of  concentration  be 
came  impossible,  ask  his  opinion  of  cer 
tain  instructors  and  their  courses, — 
whether  this  one  was  a  "  snap,"  and  that 
one  a  "  stinker,"  —  what  sort  of  frills  he, 
McGaw,  was  going  to  get  on  his  degree, 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT    121 

and  if  he  did  n't  think  the  college  was  cc  a 
good  deal  of  a  fake,  anyhow  ?  "  This  sort 
of  thing  was  infinitely  more  galling  to 
McGaw  than  a  business  relation,  pure  and 
simple.  He  remembered  that,  with  other 
men  who  interrupted  the  study  hour  from 
time  to  time,  Wolcott  talked  rowing  or 
horses  or  —  what  was  even  more  bewil 
dering  —  nothing  at  all,  but  fooled  and 
laughed  with  easy  intimacy.  He  resented 
Sears's  ponderous  adaptability  to  his,  the 
tutor's,  own  special  topics. 

While  these  two  were  seeing  so  much 
of  each  other  on  this  uneven  basis,  May 
came  and  went,  bringing  with  it  the  Class 
Races  and  all  the  other  spring  novelties. 
Wolcott's  crew  came  in  second  in  the  race, 
with  seven  men  in  the  boat.  Some  one 
had  broken  an  oar,  or  a  leg,  or  an  out 
rigger,  —  some  one  always  does,  —  and 
jumped  overboard.  So  the  order  in 
which  the  four  crews  splashed  over  the 
finish  line  was,  as  usual,  a  tremendous  sur 
prise  to  the  black  crowd  that  stretched 
along  the  Harvard  Bridge,  and  the  sea 
wall,  and  the  stable  roofs  back  of  Beacon 
Street.  Everybody  —  especially  the  girls 
—  said  the  man  who  jumped  was  a  great. 


122  HARVARD    EPISODES 

splendid  fellow.  He  was,  of  course  ;  but 
the  crews  and  the  man  himself  laughed 
a  good  deal  when  they  heard  it ;  they 
thought  that  the  men  who  had  to  stay  by 
a  disabled  boat  and  be  beaten  by  half  a 
length  showed  their  sand. 

One  sweltering  day  in  June,  after  the 
examinations  had  begun,  Haydock  found 
Sears  in  his  room,  staring  helplessly  at  a 
small  mountain  of  clothing  that  reared 
itself  in  chaos  from  his  study  floor. 
"What  '11  I  do  ?  "  he  asked,  mopping  his 
face  dejectedly  with  the  tail  of  a  coloured 
shirt. 

"  Why,  what 's  the  matter  with  them  ?  " 
Haydock  turned  over  a  gay  straw  hat  with 
his  foot. 

"  Oh,  everything  !"  answered  Sears  ;  he 
was  warm  and  cross.  "  They  don't  fit, 
and  they  're  hideous,  and  no  good,  and  in 
my  way,  and  they  make  me  sick."  He 
gave  the  pile  a  kick  that  spread  it  the 
length  of  the  room. 

"  Why  not  let  Croesus  have  a  whack 
at  them?"  suggested  Haydock,  thought 
fully. 

"  What !  "  Wolcott  looked  quizzical, 
astonished.  "  Oh,  that  would  never  do, 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT 


123 


Boy  !  It  would  be  rotten  for  one  college 
fellow  to  offer  another  one  clothes." 

"  I  don't  see  much  difference  between 
that  and  money." 

"  Well,  there  is  a  difference,  just  the 
same.  The  money  comes  through  the 
Secretary,  —  a  sort  of  reward  offered,  and 
no  questions  asked.  Anyhow,  there 's 
something  about  money  —  something  — 
Oh,  you  know  what  it  is  as  well  as  I  do  ! 
As  soon  as  money  belongs  to  you,  it 's 
just  as  good  as  anybody's." 

"  Rather  better,  I  should  say." 

"  Well,  clothes  are  n't." 

"  Since  you  press  me,"  said  Haydock, 
fishing  among  a  heap  of  crumpled  linen, 
"  I  feel  obliged  to  possess  myself  of  this 
extremely  pretty  necktie."  He  smoothed 
a  brilliant  strip  of  crimson  silk  over  his 
knee. 

"  Go  on,  Haystack,  —  what  shall  I  do 
with  them  ?  " 

"  How  many  times  does  a  simple  state 
ment  have  to  be  repeated  to  you  before  it 
penetrates  ?  "  Haydock  rapidly  began  to 
bring  a  rough  kind  of  order  into  the 
waste  of  shirts,  neckties,  odd  gloves,  and 
suits  of  clothes. 


124  HARVARD   EPISODES 

"  Give  them  to  Croesus  ?  That 's 
out  of  the  question,  me  boy  !  " 

Haydock  worked  hard  a  few  moments 
in  silence.  Then  he  stood  up,  hot  and 
dishevelled,  but  amiable,  as  he  always 
was,  and  said,  laughing:  — 

"  That  light  grey  suit,  these  shirts,  those 
neckties,  and  this  hat,  in  fact  the  best  of 
this  out-fit,  is  going  this  afternoon  to 
Barrows,  with  a  note  from  you.  They 
will  subsequently  be  presented  to  c  It, 
Croesus,  Esquire/  '  It  amused  Wolcott 
every  now  and  then  to  have  Haydock 
"  boss "  him.  The  clothes  went,  of 
course. 

Two  days  later  they  returned.  That  is 
to  say,  the  best  of  them  did,  —  the  grey 
suit,  the  coloured  shirt,  the  straw  hat,  and 
one  of  the  quieter  neckties.  Ernest 
McGaw,  unspeakably  jaunty,  almost 
handsome,  was  inside  of  them. 

Even  before  Wolcott's  bundle  had  en 
abled  McGaw  to  blossom,  like  the  season, 
into  fine  raiment,  his  whole  appearance 
had  undergone  a  subtle,  indescribable 
change.  Perhaps  it  was  a  recently  ac 
quired  firmness  of  gait  as  he  swung 
through  the  Yard  to  a  lecture,  or  up 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT    125 

the  steps  of  Claverly  to  Sears's  room. 
Hitherto  he  had  hated  the  approach  to 
Claverly ;  there  usually  were  men  going 
in  or  coming  out,  who  looked  at  him  as 
they  passed.  Once  he  had  found  a  whole 
group  of  them  seated  on  the  steps,  and 
had  walked  twice  round  the  block,  rather 
than  brush  through  to  the  door.  Or  it 
may  have  been  the  spiritual  radiance  that 
comes  of  good  food  and  plenty  of  it, 
money  in  your  pocket,  and  peace  in  your 
mind.  At  any  rate,  McGaw's  expression, 
whether  it  walked  at  you,  or  looked  at 
you,  or  smiled  at  you,  had,  of  late,  become 
the  outward  and  visible  sign  of  a  great 
inward  happiness.  Almost  every  minute 
of  his  day  was  dedicated  to  his  work ;  yet 
he  felt  as  if  he  were  having  for  the  first 
time  leisure  in  which  to  breathe.  By  no 
means  the  least  exquisite  of  his  satisfac 
tions  was  his  first  purchase  of  something 
unnecessary,  a  luxury,  an  extravagance ; 
he  bought  one  evening,  in  a  dim  musty 
corner  of  a  Brattle  Square  bookstall,  a 
second-hand  copy  of  some  Latin  hymns 
for  twenty  cents.  The  demi-god  who 
had  caused  such  things  to  be  —  Barrows 
had  spoken  vaguely  of  "  a  friend  "  —  had 


126  HARVARD   EPISODES 

become  to  McGaw  the  occasion  of  the 
suns  rising  and  the  stars' shining;  through 
him,  the  earth  revolved,  and  the  college 
endured.  McGaw  was  very  religious ; 
every  night  he  prayed  fervently  for  the 
man  who  was  befriending  him.  To-day, 
when  he  left  his  room  to  walk  down  to 
Claverly,  he  had  the  uplifting  glow  of 
self-respect  and  good-will  to  men  whose 
secret  only  barbers  and  tailors  seem  to 
know.  Perhaps,  just  at  first,  he  felt  even 
more  like  a  white  elephant  than  one 
ordinarily  does  on  getting  into  a  fresh 
suit  of  grey,  after  wearing  black  for  many 
months.  But  the  sensation,  coming  as 
it  did  from  the  knowledge  that  he  was 
conspicuously  better,  rather  than  worse 
dressed  than  most  people,  was  not  alto 
gether  an  unpleasant  one  to  McGaw. 

Wolcott's  back  was  turned  when  he 
arrived.  This  fact  made  what  followed 
even  more  unfortunate  than  it  would  have 
been  had  the  somewhat  astounding  truth 
burst  on  Sears  at  the  moment  the  tutor 
came  into  the  room.  For  it  enabled  Wol- 
cott  to  say,  in  his  natural,  off-hand  tones, 
without  looking  away  from  his  desk : 

"  Is     that     you,     McGaw  ?      Just    sit 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT    127 

down  and  wait  a  minute."  When  his 
revolving  chair  finally  did  swing  round, 
the  transition  was  something  very  awful. 
Sears,  in  spite  of  his  birth,  and  his  bring 
ing  up,  and  his  money,  was,  at  times,  to 
put  it  kindly,  exceedingly  "  near  to  na 
ture  ;  "  just  now  he  behaved  as  one  might 
fancy  a  naked  Zulu  behaving  were  an 
electric  car  or  a  steam-roller  to  dart  sud 
denly  across  his  path  in  the  depths  of  an 
African  jungle.  He  jerked  back  as  if 
somebody  had  made  a  lunge  at  him,  and 
held  on  to  the  arms  of  his  chair.  Then 
he  looked  quickly  from  side  to  side,  at  the 
door  and  windows,  with  his  mouth  open 
stupidly.  His  eyes,  round,  rounder,  help 
less,  turned  again  and  again  to  that  dapper 
butterfly  in  the  chair  opposite,  who  got 
redder  and  redder  until  all  the  blood  in 
his  body  boiled  through  his  face  and 
away,  leaving  him  white,  rigid,  terrible. 
And  Sears  could  make  no  sound,  only  a 
gasping  effort,  until  all  at  once  the  entire 
situation  seemed  to  gather  fresh  force  and 
smite  him  anew.  He  stumbled  from  his 
chair,  through  the  door,  down  the  long 
hall,  down  the  stairs,  laughing,  shrieking, 
cursing  like  a  maniac,  out  into  the  street. 


IV 


SEARS  found  Haydock  studying  at 
the  club,  and  dragged  him  out  of  his 
chair,  upstairs  to  a  vacant  room,  and  shut 
the  door.  Then  he  paced  the  floor  like 
a  caged  lion,  holding  his  hands  to  his 
head  and  exclaiming,  whenever  he  could 
stop  laughing  long  enough,  that  he  had 
lost  his  mind.  Every  now  and  then, 
when  words  refused  to  come,  he  expressed 
himself  by  leaning  against  the  wall,  with 
his  back  to  Haydock,  and  kicking  the  air 
behind  him.  Sometimes  he  pounded  the 
door  with  his  clenched  fist.  Haydock 
waited. 

"  I  '11  never  get  over  this,"  Sears  de 
clared,  "  not  if  I  live  to  be  a  hundred." 

"Well,  don't  tell  it  backwards,"  ob 
jected  Haydock;  "begin  at  the  begin 
ning." 

"There  isn't  any  beginning,"  roared 
Sears;  "it  never  began,  I  just  looked 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT    129 

around  and  found  it  there;  it  had  been 
there  all  the  time ;  you  've  seen  it  your 
self."  He  sat  on  the  floor  and  rocked  to 
and  fro. 

"  I  'm  almost  inclined  to  believe  that 
you  have  lost  your  mind/'  remarked  Hay- 
dock. 

"Just  wait,  just  wait !  You  '11  be  a  gib 
bering  idiot  yourself  when  I  tell  you, 
only  you'll  not  believe  me!  You  can't 
believe  me !  I  don't  believe  it  myself! 
Oh,  if  you  'd  only  been  there  !  —  if  you 
could  have  seen  him !  I  was  writing  a 
letter  at  my  desk  when  he  came  in,  and 
told  him  to  sit  down.  I  did  n't  even  no 
tice  him,  or  what  he  had  on,  or  anything ; 
and  when  I  turned  around  —  when 
I  turned  around  —  "  Wolcott  gasped  — 
"when  I  turned  around,  I  thought  it 
would  be  McGaw  !  " 

"  Oh,  go  on,  who  was  it  ?  " 

"  It  was  McGaw  !  I  '11  never  get  over 
the  shock  of  it."  Haydock  wrinkled  his 
forehead  at  this  clew. 

"  Can't  you  guess  ?  Don't  you  know  ? 
Does  n't  something  tell  you  ?  Try,  try  ! 
think  of  the  only  person  in  college  he 
could  be,  if  he  were  n't  himself.  Think 


1 3o  HARVARD    EPISODES 

of  the  only  way  I  could  have  found  out, 
the  thing  that  made  the  difference  — 
the  —  " 

"He  isn't — he  isn't?" — Haydock 
stuffed  his  fingers  in  his  ears  and  shrieked. 
"  He  is,  he  is  !  "  bellowed  Sears.  Then 
they  both  yelled,  and  made  such  a  noise 
that  the  fellows  downstairs  came  running 
up  to  see  what  was  going  on. 

But  they  didn't  tell  them.  They 
couldn't,  in  the  first  place,  and  the  fellows 
would  n't  have  understood  if  they  had. 
The  McGaw-Croesus  episode  was  one  of 
those  little  interpolated  experiences  two 
people  own  together  so  completely  that 
they  can't  share  it  if  they  want  to.  This 
one  happened  to  be  the  kind  over  which 
the  partners  could  laugh.  When  it  hap 
pens  the  other  way, —  when  two  people  get 
together  and  cry, —  it  is  n't  nearly  as  valu 
able  a  factor  in  the  divine  accident  of 
friendship ;  there  is  always  one  of  them 
who  very  selfishly  does  most  of  the  cry 
ing.  For  a  time  there  was  only  mirth 
over  McGaw.  It  was  natural  enough 
that  Wolcott  should  have  but  a  one-sided 
appreciation  of  the  affair ;  he  had  made  a 
discovery,  he  had  been  surprised,  he  had 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT    131 

found  it  very  startling  and  absurd.  It 
was  not  to  be  expected  that  he  would 
stop  laughing  to  consider  McGaw's  feel 
ings  in  the  matter.  And  Haydock,  who 
was  usually  thoughtful  and  considerate, 
treated  the  revelation  as  he  did  at  first, 
because  it  had  come  to  him  through  Wol- 
cott's  eyes.  Only  when  his  interest  in 
detail  prompted  him  to  ask  questions,  did 
he  begin  to  reconstruct  the  scene  in  Wol- 
cott's  room,  and  feel  intensely  sorry  for 
McGaw. 

"  What  did  you  say  when  you  turned 
around  and  first  saw  the  clothes  ? "  he 
asked  Wolcott. 

"  Say  ?  I  did  n't  say  anything,  I  just 
looked,  and  wondered  if  the  exams  had 
gone  to  my  brain/' 

"  Did  n't  he  do  anything  ?  " 

cc  Why,  of  course  not ;  what  did  you 
suppose  he  'd  do  ?  Tell  me  that  he  'd 
changed  his  shirt?  I  could  see  that  for 
myself;  heaven  knows  I  almost  dropped 
dead  ! " 

"  Well,  you  certainly  did  n't  just  sit 
there  staring  at  the  man,  did  you  ? " 

"Sit  there?  If  I'd  sat  there  another 
second,  I  'd  have  yelled  in  his  face.  I 


132  HARVARD   EPISODES 

crashed  out  of  the  room  and  exploded 
in  the  hall.  I  came  over  here  to  find 
you." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  he 's  in  your 
room  yet,  waiting  ?  " 

"I  'm  sure  I  don't  know,  —  I  would  n't 
go  back  to  look  for  gold  and  precious 
stones." 

"  What  do  you  suppose  he  thought  ?  " 

"Lord,  I  don't  know,  —  I  don't  care 
what  he  thought !  What  do  you  suppose 
I  thought  ?  "  Wolcott  laughed. 

"  But  if  you  ran  out  of  your  room  that 
way,  and  laughed  in  the  hall,  as  you  say 
you  did,  he  must  have  known  you  were 
laughing  at  him,"  said  Haydock,  gravely. 

"  Why  certainly  he  did  !  I  don't  sup 
pose  the  creature  thought  I  was  throwing 
a  fit  like  that  just  for  exercise.  What 
difference  does  it  make  anyhow  ?  "  Sears 
went  on  indifferently.  "  I '11  ^  never  see 
him  again.  To-day  's  the  last  time  he  was 
coming  to  tutor  me, — 'the  exam'  is  to 
morrow  ;  I  '11  send  him  a  cheque  for 
what  I  owe  him,  and  there  you  are." 

"  But  he  must  have  thought  you  were 
laughing  at  him  because  he  was  dressed 
up,"  persisted  Haydock. 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT    133 

"  Well,  damn  it,  I  was  !  If  he  had  n't 
come  looking  as  fine  as  a  drunken  shoe 
maker  in  my  old  clothes,  I  never  should 
have  known  !  "  McGaw's  emotions  did  n't 
contribute  in  any  way  to  Wolcott's  enjoy 
ment  of  his  discovery,  —  why  should 
Haydock  branch  off  and  make  such  a 
tiresome  point  of  them  ! 

"  It 's  too  bad  you  offended  him  that 
way,"  Haydock  reflected ;  "  for  of  course 
he  must  be  frightfully  offended.  He 's 
utterly  in  the  dark  about  the  thing,  —  he 
would  n't  have  worn  the  clothes  to  your 
room  if  he  were  n't ;  and  he  just  thinks 
he  looks  like  an  overdressed  fool  in  them. 
He'll  go  home  and  take  them  off,  and 
never  wear  them  again." 

"  Then  he  certainly  will  be  a  fool," 
answered  Wolcott,  a  trifle  sulkily.  "  He 
looked  extremely  nice  in  them.  If  I  'd 
known  how  well  they  looked  on,  I 
should  n't  have  given  them  away."  He 
spoke  as  if  he  were  perfectly  insensitive 
to  McGaw's  probable  anger  and  mortifi 
cation;  but  Haydock  knew  that  he  was  n't. 

"  It 's  funny,  of  course  ;  but  I  'm  mighty 
sorry  it  happened."  The  more  Hay- 
dock  thought  of  the  way  Sears  had  be- 


i34  HARVARD    EPISODES 

haved,  the  more  it  worried  him.  "  You 
can  insult  your  friends  without  its  mak 
ing  any  particular  difference,  I  suppose; 
they  either  refuse  to  take  you  seriously, 
or  insult  back,  just  as  they  please.  But 
McGaw's  different,  —  he's  a  defenceless, 
pathetic  sort  of  a  creature,  and  tremen 
dously  sensitive ;  I  could  see  that  when 
ever  I  met  him  in  your  room.  He 's  the 
kind  of  fellow  that  makes  you  feel  that 
*  something  ought  to  be  done  about  it/  ' 

"I  think  I  have  done  a  little,"  sug 
gested  Wolcott,  embarrassed  at  referring 
to  his  own  good  works,  yet  desirous  of 
defending  himself. 

"  It  does  n't  put  you  in  a  better  light 
with  McGaw  though;  and  his  feelings 
are  n't  any  the  less  hurt  on  that  account. 
All  he  thinks  is,  that  he  made  a  ridiculous 
exhibition  of  himself  in  somebody  else's 
clothes,  and  that  you  were  coarse  and 
heartless  about  it." 

"  I  'm  afraid  you  flatter  me,"  muttered 
Wolcott. 

"Come,  now,  Searsy,  you  know,  just 
as  well  as  I  do,  how  people  feel  when  you 
laugh  at  them." 

The  Magnificent  One's  laugh,  when  ex- 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT    135 

erted  upon  certain  temperaments,  was 
indeed  a  terrifically  effective  engine.  Wol- 
cott's  sense  of  ridicule  was  not  fine  ;  it 
was  powerless  to  discover  the  one  vulner 
able  spot  and  stab  neatly.  But  if  it 
couldn't  dissect,  it  could  crush  like  a 
boulder  toppling  from  a  precipice.  "  Re 
member  poor  little  Bemis  !  "  Wolcott 
coloured  ;  he  had  once  bet  that  he  could 
make  little  Bemis  cry  inside  of  fifteen  min 
utes,  without  touching  him.  That  he  had 
won  the  bet  in  eleven  minutes  and  six 
seconds  was  a  success  of  which  he  was  not 
very  proud.  "  This  is  n't  as  bad  as  that 
time/'  Haydock  went  on;  "because  you 
did  n't  do  it  on  purpose." 

"  It  was  beastly,  though,  —  was  n't  it  ?  " 
said  Wolcott,  slowly,  after  a  moment. 
He  got  up  and  looked  out  of  the  window, 
while  Haydock  sat  and  smoked  in  silence. 
"  Well,  for  heaven's  sake,  let 's  not  talk 
about  it  any  more,"  he  said  at  length, 
turning  around.  "  If  you  can  think  of 
anything  that  I  ought  to  go  and  do  about 
it,  tell  me,  and  I'll  do  it."  He  left  the 
room,  and,  in  a  minute  or  two,  Haydock 
heard  the  front  door  slam  behind  him. 

"  What    to    do  ?  "    thought   Haydock. 


136  HARVARD    EPISODES 

The  occasions  that  would  have  made  his 
interference  in  the  matter  anything  but 
an  elaborate  bit  of  patronising,  were  lack 
ing.  Haydock  never  saw  McGaw  in  the 
ordinary  course  of  events.  To  explain 
things,  he  would  have  had  to  seek  him 
out,  and  begin  in  a  way  that  would  have 
sounded  to  the  tutor  like :  "  See  here, 
my  good  man,"  —  that  of  course  would 
hardly  do.  Besides,  if  amends  were  in 
order,  Sears  was  the  proper  person  to 
make  them.  The  conception  of  Sears 
apologising  to  McGaw  was  sublime;  Sears 
actually  apologising, —  Haydock  imagined 
him  setting  his  teeth,  and  blurting  out  the 
fewest  possible  words  in  which  he  could 
frame  a  perfunctory  sentence  of  regret. 
That  would  n't  do,  either.  Haydock, 
usually  full  of  resource  when  it  came  to 
rectifying  other  people's  mistakes  —  he 
made  very  few  himself — was  quite  at  a 
loss  in  this  instance.  He  ended  by  tell 
ing  himself  that  what  he  cared  most  about, 
after  all,  was  that  Wolcott  should  feel 
genuinely  uncomfortable ;  for  the  good 
of  his  soul  he  ought  n't  to  be  allowed  to 
jeer  at  a  man  and  then  abandon  him  to 
his  bitter  reflections,  without  being  talked 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT    137 

to  by  some  one.  Wolcott  had  shown 
that  he  was  "  sorry,"  as  plainly  as  he  ever 
condescended  to  express  that  state  of 
mind.  The  sensible  course,  perhaps, 
was  to  forget  the  rest  as  soon  as  possible. 
This  Haydock  attempted  to  do. 

But  it  was  far  from  easy.  He  and 
Wolcott  went  abroad  together  that  year. 
Wolcott  wanted  to  divide  the  summer 
between  Dinard  and  Paris.  Haydock  had 
long  wished  to  take  a  bicycle  trip  among 
a  lot  of  Italian  towns  that,  as  Wolcott 
told  him,  no  one  but  he  "and  another 
know-it-all  who  wrote  a  guide-book  about 
them  ever  heard  of  before."  They  com 
promised  on  the  Italian  towns.  All 
through  the  long  vacation  McGaw,  and 
what  Haydock  believed  to  be  the  type  he 
represented,  intruded  upon  Haydock's 
meditations  at  the  oddest  hours  and  in 
the  most  unlikely  places.  For  the  first 
time  he  understood  something  a  man  had 
said  to  him  the  summer  before  :  — 

"  Why  on  earth  are  you  going  to  spend 
your  vacation  in  central  Siberia  ?  "  Hay- 
dock  had  asked  him. 

"  Because  I  want  to  find  out  what  I 
really  think  about  Harvard,"  the  man 


138  HARVARD   EPISODES 

had  answered,  laughing.  It  was  n't  ex 
actly  necessary  for  Haydock  to  go  to 
Italy  in  order  to  think;  but  when,  in 
August,  he  found  himself  loafing  with 
Wolcott  through  a  chain  of  dead  little  towns 
that  some  one  had  strewn  along  the  hills 
and  forgotten,  he  was  able  to  discuss  with 
himself,  —  and  occasionally  with  his  com 
panion,  —  as  he  never  had  been  before, 
more  than  one  aspect  of  life  in  another 
little  town  that,  had  he  known  it,  is  quite 
as  dead  in  August  as  any  mediaeval  ham 
let  of  the  Apennines.  The  discussions 
were  intensely  serious,  unsatisfactory,  and 
in  no  way  markworthy,  except  that  they 
concerned  themselves  with  Ernest  McGaw 
in  particular,  and  a  background  of  shadowy 
strugglers  Haydock  and  Wolcott  did  n't 
know  much  about,  that  they  referred  to 
conveniently  as  "  McGaws  in  general." 
They  were  unable  to  dismiss  the  tutor 
from  their  minds  ;  and  when  college  opened 
again,  McGaw  was  dazed  one  fine  morn 
ing  in  November  on  seeing  his  own  name 
on  the  first  page  of  the  "  Crimson  "  among 
six  other  names  —  some  of  them  well 
known  —  that,  together  with  his,  the 
"  Crimson  "  announced,  composed  the 
Second  Seven  of  the  Signet. 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT    139 

It  had  been  Wolcott' s  suggestion  en 
tirely.  He  was  n't  a  Signet  man  himself; 
but  Haydock  was,  "which  is  practically 
the  same  thing/'  as  Wolcott  said  when 
he  asked  him  to  do  what  he  could  for 
McGaw.  The  plan  of  electing  McGaw  to 
the  Signet  had  been  such  a  simple  matter 
for  Haydock  to  carry  out,  that  he  could  n't 
scare  up  a  suspicion  of  the  smug  satisfac 
tion  he  had  always  believed  was  the  re 
ward  of  having  gone  out  of  one's  way  to 
do  some  one  a  good  turn.  Even  when 
Wolcott  came  to  him  with  the  "  Crim 
son  "  in  one  hand,  and  patted  him  on  the 
head  with  the  other,  saying :  "  You  —  are 
—  a  —  good  —  boy,"  he  did  n't  have  any 
of  the  nice  priggish  sensations  he  had 
been  looking  forward  to  investigating. 

"No,  I'm  not,"  he  said  to  Wolcott. 
"  It  was  too  easy." 

"  How  did  you  manage  it  ?  " 

"There  wasn't  much  need  of  manage 
ment,"  answered  Haydock.  "  The  First 
Seven  is  so  dazzled  by  its  own  general  bril 
liancy  that  it  firmly  believes  that  when  it 
was  elected,  the  list  of  really  interesting 
men  in  the  class  was  exhausted.  So  it 
goes  in  for  proposing  its  personal  friends 


140  HARVARD    EPISODES 

who  are  congenial,  without  being  c  clever ' 
and  '  literary ; '  and  as  nobody  will  vote 
for  anybody  else's  friends,  they  all  get 
tired  of  black-balling  people  after  a  while, 
and  compromise  on  some  obscure  and 
very  deserving  person  none  of  them 
know  at  all.  It  was  when  everybody 
was  tired  of  righting,  that  I  bucked  in 
McGaw.  I  said  he  was  a  scholar,  —  he 
must  be  if  he  's  able  to  make  you  pass  ex 
aminations  ;  and  I  said  that  we  would 
be  keeping  up  the  Signet's  tradition  of 
electing  representative  men,  if  we  got  him 
in  ;  and  that  the  Faculty  would  like  it ;  and 
that  McGaw  would  givejust  the  necessary 
tone  of  seriousness  to  the  Signet  that  I 
feared  we  of  the  First  Seven  lacked.  I 
said  that,  because  people  are  always  tickled 
to  death  to  think  they  belong  to  some 
thing  very  serious,  without  being  serious 
themselves.  It  was  the  speech  of  my 
life,  I  assure  you.  McGaw  was  elected, 
on  the  second  ballot,  without  a  mur 
mur." 

"  You  '11  have  to  make  him  an  honor 
ary  member,  won't  you  ?  Can  he  pay  his 
initiation  fee  ? "  Wolcott  asked,  with  elab 
orate  innocence.  Haydock  answered  by 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT    141 

unbuttoning  Wolcott's  coat  and    finding 
ten  dollars  in  his  card-case. 

"  Now  sit  down  and  enclose  it  in  a  nice 
little  note  to  Barrows,  so  that  Croesus  can 
have  the  satisfaction  of  paying  it  himself." 
He  led  Sears  by  the  coat  to  a  desk,  and 
dipped  a  pen  in  the  ink. 

"  This  highway  robbery  game  is  a  per 
fect  damned  outrage  !  "  said  The  Magnifi 
cent  One,  as  he  took  the  pen  and  began 
to  write. 

McGaw  was  bewildered  and  charmed  at 
his  election,  for  it  is  a  great  honour  to  be 
long  to  the  Signet,  although  no  one  — 
especially  the  twenty-one  members  of  the 
distinguished  junior  society  —  knows  just 
why.  He  was  also  considerably  upset  by 
his  unexpected  translation ;  it  demolished 
an  entire  system  of  dreary  philosophy  that 
he  had  built  out  of  the  struggles  and  bit 
terness  of  his  freshman  and  sophomore 
years.  He  could  n't,  logically,  go  on 
thinking  himself  an  obscure  outcast,  shut 
off  from  human  interests,  since  he  had 
become  so  pleasantly  conspicuous  in  the 
public  eye.  Some  unseen,  unknown 
power  had  wished  him  well,  and  had  done 
much  for  him  ;  McGaw  was  happy,  grate- 


142  HARVARD    EPISODES 

ful,  and,  at  first,  mystified.  But  when  the 
extra  ten  dollars  for  his  initiation  fee  came 
through  Barrows,  he  considered  the  mys 
tery  solved.  He  prayed  enthusiastically 
that  night  —  a  great  deal  more  than  ten 
dollars'  worth  —  for  the  hallowed  being 
whose  goodness  was  unfathomable.  He 
also  laid  awake  an  hour  thinking  up  a 
suitable  subject  for  his  initiation  "part." 
Nothing  that  occurred  to  him  seemed 
deep  enough  for  so  intellectual  an  institu 
tion  as  the  Signet. 

On  the  evening  the  Second  Seven  was 
initiated,  Haydock  —  who  developed  an 
oppressive  sense  of  responsibility  for 
McGaw  five  or  ten  minutes  before  the 
fellow  stood  up  to  read  his  part  —  felt 
rather  proud  of  him.  McGaw's  turn 
came  between  a  humourous  effort  in  feeble 
rhyme,  and  a  narrative  that  the  writer 
sought  to  disinfect,  —  when  he  became 
aware  that  there  were  several  instructors 
among  his  audience,  —  by  explaining  apolo 
getically,  that  it  was  "  from  the  French." 
McGaw's  part  was  a  dissertation  on  "  The 
Vocabulary  of  ^schylus." 

"  I  was  glad  he  did  it,"  Haydock  said 
to  Wolcott,  when  telling  him  about  the 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT    143 

initiation  later  in  the  evening  at  the  club  ; 
"  because  I  'd  blathered  so  much  about 
his  being  serious  and  a  scholar.  Why  it 
was  wonderful  —  monumental!  Nobody 
understood  a  word  of  it,  after  the  first 
page,  and  there  were  twenty-three  pages. 
I  counted  them  ;  I  had  to  look  interested 
in  something.  If  there 's  a  solitary  iota 
subscript  in  Athens  this  night  that  did  n't 
get  ripped  up  the  back  and  disembowelled, 
I  'd  like  to  shake  hands  with  it,  and  ask 
it  how  it  escaped.  Professor  Tenny  went 
over  to  him  afterwards ;  they  had  a 
lemonade  orgy  together  and  made  Greek 
puns.  McGaw  had  the  grey  suit  on ; 
he 's  really  a  rather  fine-looking  sort  of  a 
chap  ;  he  does  n't  seem  peaked  and  sticky 
out  at  the  sleeves  the  way  he  used  to  be. 
All  the  fellows  wooded  up  in  great  style ; 
I  'd  given  Ellis  a  long  talk  to  death  be 
forehand,  and  told  him  the  whole  thing," 
—  Wolcott  made  a  face.  "Oh,  you  don't 
mind !  Ellis  is  just  the  kind  to  think  it 
sort  of  nice  and  Godsome.  In  fact,  Ellis 
told  me  he  was  afraid  he'd  always  mis 
judged  you,  and  asked  me  what  he'd 
better  do  about  it."  They  both  laughed. 
"It's  funny,"  Haydock  went  on,  "the 


144  HARVARD    EPISODES 

way  fellows  are  willing  to  accept  a  man 
here  if  only  you  can  get  the  right  people 
to  hustle  around  and  say  that  he 's  c  some 
body.'  I  was  thinking  that  to-night. 
Not  one  of  those  fellows  had  ever  heard 
of  McGaw  until  I  sprung  him  on  them ; 
and  Ellis  went  around  telling  everybody 
he  had  c  a  future  before  him/  —  whatever 
that  means.  Ellis  is  perfectly  happy,  you 
know,  when  he  can  persuade  himself  that 
some  one  he  has  just  met  has  a  future  be 
fore  him.  He  thought  I  had,  for  about 
two  weeks  once.  Well,  what  I  began  to 
say  was  that,  in  a  small  way,  McGaw  is 
right  in  the  thick  of  things  now.  There's 
no  reason  why  those  fellows  should  n't 
like  him ;  he  seems  really  human  in 
spite  of  JEschylus ;  and  if  they  do  take 
to  him,  he  '11  probably  make  the  O.  K. 
and  the  Pudding,  and  wind  up  by  being 
Class  Day  Orator.  When  I  left,  he  was 
talking  to  that  detestable  snob,  Baxford. 
Heaven  only  knows  what  they  found  to 
talk  about ;  but  Baxford  was  cackling  his 
mindless  cackle.  They  seemed  to  have 
plenty  to  say  to  each  other ;  I  did  n't  dis 
turb  them.  Is  n't  it  funny  ?  " 

It  was  "  funny  "  to  Haydock  and  Wol- 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT    145 

cott,  although  Wolcott,  perhaps,  wouldn't 
have  found  it  out  by  himself.  When,  a 
short  time  afterwards,  the  Editor-in-chief 
of  the  cc  Monthly  "  begged  permission  to 
print  "  The  Vocabulary  of  .^Eschylus," 
and  the  "  Crimson  "  called  it  "  a  remark 
ably  distinguished  bit  of  research,"  and  the 
Signet  remarked  that  real  merit  always 
found  its  level,  Haydock  and  Wolcott  got 
together  and  laughed,  and  were  "just  too 
cynical  for  anything,"  as  Ellis  said,  re 
provingly.  They  laughed,  too,  when  they 
met  McGaw  in  the  Yard  or  the  Square, 
—  somehow  he  had  become  a  more  familiar 
figure  in  the  college  scene,  —  and  spoke 
to  him.  McGaw  always  had  a  cordial 
"  hello "  for  Haydock  alone.  To  Hay- 
dock  and  Wolcott  together,  he  gave  a 
somewhat  stiff  nod.  Wolcott,  unaccom 
panied,  he  ignored. 

"  That  young  man  will  succeed,"  said 
Wolcott,  one  morning  after  he  had  been 
given  —  as  he  explained  to  Haydock  — 
"the  frozen  eye  twice,  in  front  of  Fos 
ter's." 

"  Any  one  who  can  afford  to  make  a 
point  of  cutting  you  has  succeeded," 
laughed  Haydock.  McGaw's  indepen- 

10 


146  HARVARD    EPISODES 

dence  and  "cheek"    pleased    them    both 
exceedingly. 

Haydock  had  some  foundation  for  his 
remark.  McGaw  was  prosperous  ;  he  was 
happy;  to  many  of  his  classmates,  he  had 
become  something  of  a  personage.  He 
followed  "  The  Vocabulary  of  jEschylus  " 
in  the  "Monthly"  by  "Life  and  the 
Classics,"  and  "Hellas  and  the  Athletic 
Question  "  in  the  "Advocate,"  —  two  in 
telligent  essays  that  were  happy  in  creat 
ing  varied  opinions  among  the  readers  of 
the  college  papers,  and  in  causing  his 
name  to  be  added  very  soon  to  the  list  of 
the  "  Monthly's  "  editors.  There  are  few 
institutions  in  college  through  which  one's 
tether,  so  to  speak,  can  be  more  indefi 
nitely  extended  than  through  the  Signet 
and  the  college  press.  McGaw's  acquaint 
ance  became  large  and  eclectic.  It  brought 
him  work,  —  tutoring  of  all  kinds,  — more 
than  he  could  undertake.  It  gave  him  an 
interest  in  college  activities,  and  an  in 
timate  knowledge  of  them  that  enabled 
him  to  supply  several  Sunday  newspapers 
with  columns  of  unimportant  but  lucrative 
information  and  journalistic  rigmarole.  It 
made  it  possible  for  him  at  length  to 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT    147 

return  to  Barrows  one  of  the  periodical 
remittances  and  something  additional,  in 
payment  of  what  he  preferred  to  consider 
his  debt.  Barrows  gave  Wolcott,  and 
Wolcott  gave  Haydock,  and  Haydock 
gave  Wolcott' s  sister  the  note  that  went 
with  it.  Between  the  lines  they  all  read 
the  fine  feeling  that  McGaw,  with  even 
finer  feeling,  had  delicately  suggested. 
McGaw  was  nearing  the  crest  of  the  wave. 
The  grinds  of  the  class,  in  discussing  him, 
conceded  to  him  a  dubious  facility  for 
getting  high  marks  in  his  studies,  and  a 
somewhat  frivolous  knack  of  impressing 
people  favourably.  But  they  agreed  that, 
at  last  analysis,  he  lacked  the  instincts  of 
a  true  scholar.  The  other  men  told  one 
another  that  he  was  "  a  terrible  grind,  but 
a  darned  nice  fellow  !  " — which  was  another 
way  of  saying  he  was  "  really  human,  in 
spite  of  jEschylus." 

Haydock  had  taken  the  fellow's  meas 
ure  when  he  said  that  of  him.  The  tutor 
was  thoroughly  "  human."  He  was  in 
clined  to  like  most  of  the  men  he  had  met 
at  the  Signet  in  a  frank,  simple  way  that 
demanded  nothing,  and  ended  by  getting 
much ;  with  corresponding  naturalness,  he 


148  HARVARD    EPISODES 

liked   being    liked  by   them.     Moreover, 

the  dreariness  of  his  first  two  years  left  no 

more  permanent  effect  on. him  than  the 

horrors  of  a  January  passage  leave  on  a 

traveller    who     at     length     reaches     port. 

McGaw  proved  himself  a  normal  young 

person,    by    the    comfortable     manner    in 

which  the  general  hopelessness  of  his  past 

situation   receded  from   his  memory,  and 

left  behind  it  one  or  two  sharp  details  of  a 

purely  personal   nature.      He   didn't,  for 

instance,  recall  very  vividly  how  it  felt  to 

go  more  or  less  hungry  for  several  days  at 

a  time  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  he  could  n't 

pass  Wolcott  on  the  street  without  tingling 

all  over  with  anger  and  contempt.     The 

recollection  of  Wolcott' s  treatment  of  him 

refused  to  soften  and  fade ;  the  sound  of 

Wolcott's    insolent    laughter    never   grew 

faint.     McGaw    still    felt   bitterly    toward 

Wolcott.     The  tutor  was  human  enough ; 

and  he  had  n't  begun  to  show  how  human 

he  could  be.     He  was  something  like  the 

little  girl  who,  on  being  told  that  she  had 

big  eyes,  answered,  "  Well,  if  you  think 

they  're  big  now,  you  just  ought  to  see  me 

open  them  really  wide  once."     Whenever 

McGaw  came  across  Wolcott,  he  thought 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT    149 

of  a  remark  a  certain  terrible  old  man  used 
to  make  to  his  enemies  :  — 

"  You  '11  all  have  a  chance  to  get  back 
at  me  if  you  live  long  enough,"  this  ter 
rible  old  man  was  in  the  habit  of  saying 
encouragingly.  "The  only  trouble  is, 
so  many  of  you  seem  to  die  at  seventy." 
McGaw  often  hoped  that  he  would  n't  be 
cut  off  at  that  age  without  having  had 
a  slap  of  some  kind  at  Wolcott.  So, 
although  he  did  n't  exactly  seek  an  oppor 
tunity,  he  was  by  no  means  blind  to  it 
when  it  presented  itself,  which  it  did  with 
gratifying  despatch. 

There  was  the  usual  delay  that  year  in 
electing  the  third  and  last  seven  of  the 
Signet.  The  first  two  sevens  had  met 
three  or  four  times,  ostensibly  for  that 
purpose ;  but  either  there  was  n't  a  quo 
rum,  or  some  one  had  always  played  the 
piano,  or  read  Kipling,  or  Maupassant, 
or  Catulle  Mendes  aloud,  or  given  a  lively 
rendering  of  the  dramas  then  playing  at 
the  Bowdoin  Square  Theatre,  or  the 
Grand  Opera  House,  until  no  one  felt 
particularly  business-like.  It  was  pleas- 
anter  to  drink  beer,  and  smoke,  and  "  lis 
ten  to  something,"  than  to  squabble  over 


150  HARVARD    EPISODES 

seven  men  far  into  .the  night,  until  you 
began  to  yawn,  and  discovered  that  you 
did  n't  care  whether  they  or  any  one  else 
ever  got  into  the  Signet.  As  time  went 
on,  Ellis  and  Haviland,  the  president, 
made  several  attempts  to  impress  upon 
the  society  what  Ellis  called,  "  the  gravity 
of  the  situation."  But  almost  every  one 
knew  the  president  too  well  to  be  in  the 
least  impressed,  and  Ellis's  gravity  was 
never  very  infectious  ;  so  the  Signet  took 
its  own  time.  When,  at  last,  fourteen  men 
turned  up  in  the  long,  dingy  room  of  the 
society  one  rainy  night  in  May,  and 
no  one  had  brought  anything  to  read, 
and  the  fellows  who  played  the  piano 
were  disobliging,  Haviland  called  them 
to  order,  at  the  earnest  request  of  Ellis, 
secretary  and  treasurer,  and  declared  that 
the  first  business  to  come  before  the 
meeting  was  the  election  of  the  Third 
Seven.  Ellis  looked  conscious  and  ag 
grieved  ;  he  had  written  several  pages  of 
minutes  in  rhyme,  and  wanted  to  read 
them. 

"You  look  rather  well  behind  that 
desk,  Haviland,"  drawled  a  fellow  named 
Baxford ;  "  but  you  make  a  rotten  presi- 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT    151 

dent.  The  first  business  is  the  reading 
of  the  minutes."  Ellis  smiled  again. 

"  Not  at  all,  not  at  all,"  answered  Hav- 
iland,  unabashed,  glancing  at  the  secre 
tary's  book ;  "  I  am  only  too  well  aware 
that  Mr.  Ellis  has  written  a  yard  and  a 
half  of  poetry  for  the  occasion.  I  merely 
hesitated  to  classify  so  delightful  a  pros 
pect  under  the  head  of  business.  If  Mr. 
Ellis  will  give  us  the  pleasure — " 

"  I  move  we  adjourn,"  interrupted 
Haydock  and  Dickey  Dawson  and  Bige- 
low  and  a  tall  man  every  one  called 
Tommy,  all  rising  at  once. 

"  I  'm  going  to  get  a  cup  of  chocolate," 
announced  some  one  else.  "  Ellis's  poetry 
is  always  so  sensual,  I  can't  listen  to  it 
unless  I  quaff  thick,  sweet,  c  lucent  syrups 
tinct  with '  granulated  sugar." 

"  Have  the  things  come  ?  "  asked  Hav- 
iland,  abruptly  dropping  what  he  consid 
ered  his  parliamentary  manner. 

"  Yes,  and  there 's  beer,"  answered  Bax- 
ford,  who  was  sitting  where  he  could  lift 
the  faded  red  portiere  and  look  into  the 
other  room.  The  meeting,  led  by  the 
president,  stampeded,  leaving  Ellis  pound 
ing  on  the  table,  and  endeavouring  to 


i52  HARVARD    EPISODES 

make  himself  heard  above  the  uproar. 
He  was  imploring  them  to  "  be  serious 
just  for  a  few  minutes."  Haydock  stuck 
his  head  between  the  curtains. 

"  That 's  what  they  call  <  Harvard  indif 
ference/  "  he  said,  and  disappeared. 

They  wasted,  according  to  Ellis,  three- 
quarters  of  an  hour  over  beer  and  choco 
late,  and  would  n't  have  come  to  order 
again  at  all,  if  he  had  n't  begged  them 
separately  to  do  so  as  a  personal  favour  to 
him.  Then  they  consumed  almost  as 
long  again  in  interrupting  the  reading  of 
the  minutes,  to  criticise  gravely  Ellis's 
versification,  to  discuss  his  "  conception 
of  life,"  as  based  on  his  doggerel  lines,  and 
to  call  attention,  wherever  poor  Ellis  had 
indulged  in  anything  that  bordered  on 
"  fine  "  writing,  to  what  Tommy  referred 
to  as,  "  Those  subtle  obscenities  the  author 
has  sought,  with  ghoulish  depravity,  to 
disguise  in  the  bombastic  periods  of  a 
Milton  or  an  Alfred  Austin."  They 
moved  that  Ellis  be  "  expelled  from  the 
aristocracy  of  intellect,  and  sent  to  the 
Annex,  there  to  be  kissed  in  the  face  until 
dead,"  and  refused  to  allow  the  meeting 
to  proceed  until  the  motion  had  been  put 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT    153 

and  lost  by  a  unanimous  vote.  Baxford 
created  an  inexpensive  diversion  by  throw 
ing  a  pack  of  cards  into  the  air,  turning 
up  his  coat-collar,  and  exclaiming,  as  they 
fell  on  his  head  :  — 

"  B-r-r-r-r,  how  the  storm  rages  with 
out  !  Think,  lads,  of  the  poor  sailors  on 
such  a  night !  "  Dawson  set  fire  to  the 
portieres,  because,  as  he  explained,  Ellis 
had  said  something  in  his  poem  about  a 
"  lurid  glare,"  and  he  wanted  to  see  what 
they  were  like.  The  conflagration  was 
put  out  with  beer,  and  Ellis  was  fined 
three  dollars  for  "perverting  youth." 
McGaw  enjoyed  the  noise  and  fooling  as 
much  as  any  one.  He  did  n't  quite  know 
how  to  stir  up  that  sort  of  thing  himself; 
but  he  was  no  more  anxious  than  the 
rest  to  get  to  the  serious  business  of  the 
meeting. 

It  was  late  when  they  finally  began  to 
nominate  the  Third  Seven.  There  were 
in  all  sixteen  names  proposed.  An  in 
formal  vote  was  taken  on  them,  —  "  a  sort 
of  preliminary  canter,"  as  Haviland  said, 
"just  to  find  out  what  the  general  feeling 
was."  The  ballots  were  playing-cards,  cast 
in  Ellis' s  hat  (when,  later  in  the  evening, 


154  HARVARD   EPISODES 

its  brim  was  torn  off  during  a  playful  dis 
cussion,  Ellis  was  fined  another  dollar  for 
the  ensuing  delay).  Baxford's  room-mate, 
Anderson,  was  the  first  man  voted  on. 

"  Although  he  is  n't  just  the  sort  of  a 
man  who  would  be  chosen  for  the  first 
two  sevens,"  said  Baxford,  in  his  little 
speech  just  before  the  hat  was  passed 
around,  "  he 's  really  a  perfect  corker. 
He  doesn't  cdo'  anything  in  particular; 
but  I  've  known  him  a  long  time,  and 
he's  the  most  amusing  sort  of  a  chap, 
when  he  wants  to  be;  and  —  and  I  think 
he  'd  be  a  mighty  good  sort  of  a  man  to 
have  on." 

Of  the  fourteen  votes  cast  for  Ander 
son,  thirteen  of  them  were  black. 

"  As  an  indication  of  feeling,"  remarked 
Tommy,  "  the  informal  ballot  is  easily  a 
success." 

"  Not  quite  c  in  touch  '  with  the  Signet, 
I  'm  afraid,"  said  Baxford,  good-naturedly. 
Some  one  moved  to  drop  all  names  get 
ting  six  or  more  black  balls,  and  this, 
after  the  first  round,  decreased  the  num 
ber  of  candidates  to  nine.  McGaw  had 
put  up  a  man  named  Carver,  one  of  the 
editors  of  the  "  Monthly."  The  nomi- 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT    155 

nation  was  a  discreet  one,  for  Carver  was 
neither  obscure  nor  very  well  known. 
He  was  the  kind  of  person  they  almost 
all  dimly  remembered  having  met  at 
one  time  or  another,  in  the  rooms  of  fel 
lows  they  liked.  This  is  n't  knowing 
much  about  a  man ;  but,  at  least,  it  is  n't 
knowing  anything  against  him.  Then 
McGaw's  manner  of  indorsing  him  was 
distinctly  good.  He  managed  to  give 
the  impression  of  having  honestly  picked 
out  Carver,  not  because  he  was  Carver's 
friend,  but  because  he  thought  the  Signet 
was  on  the  lookout  for  that  kind  of 
man.  He  seemed  to  wish,  in  a  modest 
way,  to  please  the  Signet. 

"  I  can't  say  that  I  've  known  him  very 
long,  or  well,"  said  McGaw,  thoughtfully 
(the  others  had  made  a  point  of  having 
been  more  or  less  born  and  brought  up 
with  their  candidates) ;  "  but  since  I  Ve 
been  on  the  c  Monthly,1  I  've  seen  some 
thing  of  him.  He  's  a  pleasant  sort  of  a 
fellow,  and  he  writes  pretty  good  stories 
every  now  and  then ;  although  I  don't 
think  he  's  what  you  would  call  c  literary  ' 
exactly.  He  is  n't  very  prominent ;  that 
might  be  an  objection,"  he  went  on,  un- 


156  HARVARD    EPISODES 

conscious  of  the  implied  flattery ;  "  but  I 
decided  to  put  him  up  because  I  thought 
he  seemed  like  a  good  man,  and  that  some 
of  you  who  know  of  him  might  like  to 
consider  him/' 

"  I  know  him,"  spoke  up  Haydock, 
glad  of  a  chance  to  help  on  McGaw's 
candidate.  "  I  thought  of  him  myself. 
He  would  fit  in  very  well."  Ellis,  too, 
had  a  good  word  to  say.  Carver  was 
then  voted  on. 

"  Fourteen  red  and  no  black,"  an 
nounced  Haviland  from  the  desk.  The 
crowd  clapped ;  and  McGaw  felt  the  little 
thrill  born  of  an  awakened  sense  of  im 
portance  and  power  in  the  community. 

It  took  an  hour  and  a  half  to  elect  the 
next  four  men,  —  an  hour  and  a  half  of 
eulogy,  discussion,  diplomacy,  compro 
mise, —  although,  as  time  went  on,  the  in 
creasing  indifference  of  the  majority  of  the 
fellows  as  to  who  got  in  tended  to  reduce 
the  election  here  and  there,  among  those 
who  really  cared,  to  the  process  of  voting 
"  for  your  man,  if  you  '11  vote  for  mine." 
Not  that  the  arrangement  did  away  with 
animated  electioneering  in  different  corners 
of  the  room,  and  vehement  arguments  that 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT    157 

might  never  have  ended  had  not  some 
weary  outsider  called  attention  to  the  fact 
that  they  had  long  since  ceased  to  have 
any  bearing  on  anything.  But  it  gave ^ a 
coercive  publicity  to  pigheadedness  in 
various  quarters  that  made  a  Third  Seven 
possible.  At  midnight,  five  men  had 
been  elected,  two  places  remained  un 
filled,  and  the  list  of  candidates  numbered 
four.  Then,  by  a  curious  revulsion  of 
feeling  no  one  sought  to  explain,  three  of 
the  names  that  had  hung  on  with  a  fair 
chance  of  success  until  that  late  hour, 
were  unmercifully  black-balled  in  rapid 
succession  and  thrown  out.  This  left  but 
one  candidate  —  a  man  named  Leonard  — 
and  two  vacancies.  The  hat  went  around 
again  bringing  back  to  the  desk,  among 
twelve  other  cards,  the  ace  of  spades  and 
the  queen  of  clubs.  Two  black-balls,  if 
persisted  in,  kept  a  man  out  of  the  Signet. 

"Now  we'll  have  to  think  up  some 
one  else.  Oh,  Lord  !  "  yawned  Haviland. 
"  Leonard  has  had  two  black  for  hours ; 
I  think  he 's  hopeless.  Somebody  suggest 
somebody  else." 

Ellis  glanced  at  Haydock  as  much  as  to 
say,  "  Now 's  your  time."  He  had  been 


158  HARVARD   EPISODES 

doing  that,  off  and  on,  all  evening,  until 
Haydock  at  last  refused  to    look  in    his 
direction.      Haydock  was    on    the    point 
of  attempting    something    rather    impos 
sible,  and  he  did  n't  propose  to  ruin  his 
chance  of  success  at  the  outset,  merely  by 
being  ill-timed.     He  had  decided  a  week 
before,  —  as    soon    as    the    postal     cards 
calling  for  an    election  were  sent  out, — 
that    he    wanted    Sears    Wolcott    on    the 
Signet.       His    reasons    for    getting    Sears 
there    were    not    obvious,    and   Haydock 
appreciated  the  difficulties  that  lay  in  the 
way  of  making    them    appear    so,  or    of 
giving  any  reasons  at  all  other  than  that 
he    wanted    him.      His   best  motives  for 
wishing  to  "  buck  "  Sears  in  were  hardly 
formulated  in  his  own  mind ;  he  could  n't 
very  well  undertake  to  make  them  clear 
to  others,  even  if  they  would  have  carried 
with     them     any    weight,  —  which     they 
would  n't  have.     He  was  influenced  wholly 
by    the    same    feeling    for    Wolcott  —  a 
mixture  of  admiration  and  fond  disappro 
val  —  that  had  led  him  the  year  before  to 
do  what  he  could  to  interest  The  Magnifi 
cent  One  in  Barrows's  unfortunate.     The 
little  experiment  had  done  something  for 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT    159 

Wolcott,  —  a  good  that  perhaps  only 
Haydock  and  Wolcott' s  sister  appreciated 
as  yet,  but  something  that  was,  neverthe 
less,  worth  while.  Wolcott' s  horizon  had 
given  a  little  here  and  there;  Wolcott 
himself  was  somewhat  less  intolerant ;  he 
had  ceased  noticeably,  to  Haydock  at  least, 
to  be  actuated  in  everything  he  said  and 
did  by  a  kind  of  American  adaptation  of 
the  ante-French  Revolutionary  opinion, 
that  human  beings  began  with  barons. 
He  was  still  a  selfish  high-handed  youth, 

—  no  one  knew  it  better  than  Haydock. 
But  his  friend  found  him  neither  as  ego 
istic    nor    as    arrogant    as    he  had   been; 
and  he  drew  his  own  inferences.     As  for 
getting  Wolcott  into  the  Signet  —  Hay- 
dock  wished  to  go  on  with  what  he  had 
begun.     The  junior  society  seemed  made 
to  his  hand.    He  not  only  looked  forward 
to  throwing  Wolcott  and  McGaw  together 
again,  —  on  a  basis  of  equality,  this  time, 

—  he  wished  to  put  Wolcott  in  the  way  of 
having  to  see  something  of  fellows  who 
had     a    variety    of     interests     strikingly 
different    from    his    own,  and  who    came 
together  now  and  then  to  talk  and  read 
about  them.      Wolcott  came   in    contact 


160  HARVARD    EPISODES 

with  men  of  many  tastes  at  his  clubs  ;  but 
the  club  ideal  was,  after  all,  the  placid, 
unimaginative  ideal  of  fifteen  or  twenty 
pleasant  young  men  with  plenty  of  money, 
it  was  only  too  easy  to  live  up  to.  Hay- 
dock  had  no  misguided  veneration  for  the 
Signet  as  a  learned  or  even  a  very  clever 
institution  ;  an  undergraduate  literary  so 
ciety  could  hardly  be  one  or  the  other. 
He  did  appreciate,  however,  the  curiously 
diverse  character  of  its  components,  and 
the  semi-serious  intellectual  friction  that 
went  on  there.  For  the  good  of  Wolcott 
alone,  he  hoped  to  get  him  on  the  Third 
Seven.  The  attitude  was  quixotic,  in 
asmuch  as  it  was  rather  sentimental  and 
as  absurd  as  only  a  thoroughly  fine  atti 
tude  can  be.  Hay  dock  had  talked  several 
men  into  promising  to  vote  for  Wolcott, 
should  his  name  come  up ;  and  Ellis,  from 
a  variety  of  strange  Christian  motives,  had 
done  the  same.  Ellis  had  become  en 
thusiastic  over  Wolcott  since  he  had 
learned  of  the  McGaw  affair ;  whereas, 
formerly,  he  had  denounced  him  as  a  self 
ish  beast,  he  now  called  him  a  "  temper 
ament.  " 

"  Do  propose  somebody  —  anybody," 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT    161 

repeated  Haviland.      "  I  'm  so  sleepy  ! " 

Two  of  the  men  had  stretched  themselves 

on    the  sofas,  with  the  request  that  they 

be  waked  in  time  to  vote. 

"  Let 's   only    have   six    on    the    Third 

Seven  ;  it  would  be  so  quaint,"  suggested 

Tommy. 

"  I  think  I  'd  even  vote  for  Baxford's 

room-mate  if  he  were  put  up  again/'  said 

Dickey  Dawson. 

:It  was  just  this  apparent  willingness  to 
elect  any  one  and  get  away,  that  Haydock 
had  been  waiting  for.  He  stood  up. 

"  I  can't  think  of  any  one  who  seems 
exactly  cut  out  for  the  Signet,  any  more 
than  the  rest  of  you  can,"  he  said ;  "  but 
I  don't  see  why  that  ought  to  make  so 
much  difference  on  the  Third  Seven. 
Why  not  get  on  somebody  like  Tony 
Wilson  or  Jack  Linzee  or  Sears  Wolcott, 
—  not  necessarily  any  of  those  three,  but 
some  one  like  that.  They're  athletes, 
you  know,  and  people  outside  will  think 
we  're  trying  to  be  representative,  —  that 
always  sounds  well,  and,  besides,  they  're 
all  good  fellows.  Any  one  of  those  men 
would  be  surprised  and  pleased  to  be 
elected,  I  feel  sure." 


1 62  HARVARD    EPISODES 

"  Yes,  —  they  did  that  last  year,"  added 
Ellis.  "  Martin  was  a  Signet  man,  and  he 
used  to  go  to  all  the  meetings  and  every 
thing,  and  he  was  nothing  but  an  athloot. 
People  laughed  at  first,  but  they  thought 
it  rather  nice.  I  '11  vote  for  any  of  those 
fellows." 

"  Well,  I  nominate  Sears  Wolcott," 
called  some  one  from  the  sofa,  —  one  of 
the  men  who  had  pledged  himself  to  Hay- 
dock.  "  I  know  him  pretty  well,  and 
should  n't  mind  seeing  him  in." 

"Buck  him  in,  —  buck  him  in!"  said 
two  or  three  others,  impatiently. 

"  And  whoever 's  been  black-balling 
Leonard  all  evening,  for  Heaven's  sake 
don't  next  time,"  added  Haviland. 

Haydock  was  relieved  that  it  had  n't 
been  necessary  for  him  to  nominate  Wol 
cott  directly,  and  that  there  was  but  little 
preliminary  discussion  of  his  fitness  for 
election.  One  or  two  men  did  attempt  to 
agitate  his  probable  lack  of  sympathy  with 
everything  the  Signet  stood  for,  but  the 
tendency  to  hurry  the  meeting  along 
prevailed.  A  vote  was  called  for.  Hay- 
dock  involuntarily  glanced  at  McGaw,  for 
he  knew  where  the  strongest  opposition 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT    163 

would  come  from.  But  McGaw's  face 
was  non-committal  as  to  future  intentions. 
The  hat  went  around.  Haviland  and 
Ellis  assorted  the  cards. 

"  Ten  red  and  four  black,"  announced 
Haviland,  with  a  groan.  The  result  was 
better  than  Hay  dock  had  expected.  One 
of  those  black  votes  he  knew  would  never 
be  changed ;  but  the  other  three  might  be 
tired  out,  as  he  and  Ellis  had  combined 
to  hold  at  bay  every  other  candidate  as 
long  as  Wolcott  was  in  the  running. 

^"Now  for  another  go  at  Leonard," 
said  Haviland,  wearily.  "Just  what  he 
had  before,  twelve  red  and  two  black,"  he 
added  when  the  hat  came  back  to  the 
desk.  "  Who  is  doing  it  ?  Get  up  and 
curse  him  out  like  a  man ;  it 's  a  shame, 
when  all  but  two  are  willing  to  have 
him  in."  But  no  one  got  up  and  cursed. 
Haydock  and  Ellis  were  the  guilty  ones, 
and  they  had  nothing  against  Leonard. 
No  one  else  was  nominated ;  and  Haydock 
said  a  few  words  about  Wolcott  before 
his  name  was  voted  on  a  second  time. 
His  manner  in  saying  them  was  the  ar 
tistic  bit  of  hypocrisy  he  felt  the  occasion 
demanded.  Willingness  under  the  cir- 


1 64  HARVARD    EPISODES 

cumstances,  rather  than  eagerness,  was 
what  he  sought  to  express.  He  knew 
the  value  of  his  own  conservative  per 
sonality. 

"Wolcott  gets  eleven  red  and  three 
black,"  announced  Haviland  ;  "  one  better 
than  last  time."  Another  ballot  on  Leon 
ard's  name  brought  it  no  nearer  election 
than  before.  Haydock  was  quietly  exul 
tant.  The  election  was  slowly  coming  to 
the  point  to  which  he  had  all  along  looked 
forward  to  bringing  it.  The  fellows  who 
had  promised  to  vote  for  Wolcott  —  in 
different  at  first  as  to  whether  he  got  in 
or  not  —  were  beginning  now  to  "root" 
for  him  vigorously.  Incited  solely  by  a 
desire  to  have  their  own  way,  they  tried 
to  find  out  who  was  black-balling  him, 
and  made  speeches  urging  his  election 
that  Haydock  would  n't  have  dared  to 
make.  Their  eloquence  succeeded  by  the 
next  ballot  in  reducing  the  number  of 
his  black-balls  to  two.  One  of  them,  of 
course,  was  McGaw's.  The  other,  Hay- 
dock  felt  equally  sure,  had  been  put  in 
by  Bigelow.  Leonard  had  been  Bigelow's 
candidate  from  the  first.  Bigelow  had  n't 
disguised  his  enthusiasm  for  him  since  he 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT    165 

had  nominated  him  early  in  the  evening; 
he  had,  in  fact,  declared  good-naturedly 
that  if  the  worst  came  to  the  worst,  he 
would  black-ball  his  own  father  in  order 
to  get  Leonard  in.  Once  when  he  did  n't 
happen  to  have  any  black  cards  in  his 
hand,  he  had  asked  some  one  to  black 
ball  Wolcott  for  him.  It  was  undoubt 
edly  he,  thought  Haydock,  who  furnished 
the  second  black-ball,  and  continued  to 
put  one  in  every  time  a  ballot  was  taken 
on  Wolcott' s  name.  There  was  no  rea 
son  why  Bigelow  should  n't  withhold  it 
on  the  next  ballot,  Haydock  told  himself, 
if  he,  Haydock,  and  Ellis  showed  them 
selves  willing  to  vote  for  Leonard.  This 
would  elect  Bigelow's  candidate  unani 
mously,  and  let  Wolcott  in  with  McGaw's 
one  black.  So  just  before  Leonard's 
name  was  voted  on  again,  Haydock  went 
over  to  Bigelow  and  said  frankly  : 

"  Drop  in  a  red  card  for  Wolcott  next 
time,  and  as  far  as  Ellis  and  I  are  con 
cerned,  Leonard  will  be  elected  at  once. 
We  two  have  been  keeping  him  out  right 
along."  Bigelow  looked  surprised,  then 
laughed  and  nodded  as  if  he  understood 
such  things,  and  in  a  moment  Leonard, 


i66  HARVARD    EPISODES 

amid  a  murmur  of  relief  from  the  crowd, 
was  declared  elected.  Once  more  the  hat 
was  handed  from  man  to  man.  They 
were  electing  Wolcott  now,  actually  elect 
ing  him,  thought  Haydock.  He  noticed 
that  Bigelow  voted  with  the  seven  of 
hearts,  then  he  looked  in  McGaw's  direc 
tion  to  see  how  the  tutor  would  take  the 
news  of  Wolcott's  success  when  Havi- 
land  should  announce  it  from  the  desk. 
It  was  very  late,  and  the  rickety 
old  room  had  grown  chilly  in  spite  of 
the  two  blazing  chandeliers.  Three  or 
four  of  the  men  had  put  on  their  coats 
and  hats ;  the  meeting  seemed  about  to 
end. 

"  Wolcott  gets  twelve  red  and  two 
black,"  said  Haviland,  hopelessly. 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  Ellis.  Haydock 
turned  incredulously  toward  the  desk  ;  he 
felt  as  if  some  one  had  played  him  a 
sneaking  trick.  He  went  over  to  Bige 
low,  astonished  and  rather  angry. 

"  You  voted  for  Wolcott,  did  n't  you  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  Why,  yes,  of  course  I  did,"  answered 
Bigelow,  irritably.  Now  that  his  own 
candidate  was  safe,  he  was  anxious  to  go 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT    167 

home.  "  I  Ve  been  voting  for  him  ever 
since  he  was  put  up,  except  just  the  first 
round."  Haydock  swore.  He  had  taken 
it  for  granted  that  Bigelow  had  been  keep 
ing  Wolcott  out  when,  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  it  had  been  some  one  else,  —  some 
one  who  no  doubt  was  in  complete  sym 
pathy  with  McGaw.  His  jump  at  the 
conclusion  struck  him  now  as  an  incred 
ibly  dull  proceeding. 

"  I  'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  to  do," 
Haviland  was  saying.  "  We  simply  must 
have  a  seventh  man.  I  hate  to  have  the 
thing  drag  over  until  c  next  time,'  when 
we're  all  here  to-night.  Nominate  Tony 
Wilson,  or  Jack  Linzee  —  somebody  — 
anybody." 

"  I  nominate  Tony  Wilson  !  "  drawled 
Baxford,  obediently.  Haydock  and  Ellis 
ostentatiously  gave  the  new  candidate  the 
only  two  black-balls  he  received.  Hav 
iland  grasped  the  situation  at  once. 

"  I  think  we  '11  have  to  come  to  some 
sort  of  an  understanding,"  he  said.  He 
was  tired  and  annoyed,  and  so  conscious 
of  the  fact  that  he  forced  himself  to  be 
extraordinarily  polite.  "Two  of  us  ap 
parently  want  Wolcott  enough  to  cause  a 


168  HARVARD    EPISODES 

deadlock,  —  which  I  suppose  is  perfectly 
justifiable, —  and  two  of  us  don't  want  him 
at  all.  Lots  of  things  have  been  said  in 
his  favour,  and  no  one  has  said  much  of 
anything  against  him.  I  think  it's  only 
fair  for  the  two  fellows  who  are  keeping 
us  here  so  late  to  get  up  and  give  us 
some  idea  of  why  they  don't  want  him. 
We  can't  very  well  throw  his  name  out 
as  long  as  he  has  only  two  black.  If  the 
fellows  who  are  keeping  him  out  have  a 
really  good  reason,  we  ought  to  know  it. 
Such  things,  I  'm  sure,  won't  go  beyond 
this  room."  There  was  a  pause,  while 
Haviland  looked  inquiringly  from  face  to 
face.  Then  McGaw  stood  up.  There 
was  just  a  trace  of  defiance  in  his  general 
bearing  that  vanished  as  soon  as  he  saw 
that  every  one  had  turned  toward  him 
with  interest. 

"  I  suppose  I  ought  to  have  objected 
to  Sears  Wolcott  earlier  in  the  evening," 
he  said  slowly.  He  looked  quietly,  fix 
edly,  at  Haydock.  "  I  have  met  him  in 
a  way  that  none  of  you  could  meet  him. 
I  wish  I  did  n't  know  that  he  was  one 
kind  of  a  fellow  with  men  who  have 
money  and  friends  and  everything,  and 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT    169 

different  with  the  other  kind,  —  men  who 
can't  afford  such  things.  I  'm  very  sorry 
that  I  've  seen  him  laugh  at  a  man  because 
he  was  poor  and  underfed  and  dressed 
in  somebody  else's  clothes,  —  clothes  that 
did  n't  fit  him ;  because  I  can't  forget  it 
now,  when  I  should  like  to.  I  can't  think 
that  he  has  a  good  heart.  I  don't  want 
to  meet  him  here."  McGaw  said  this 
very  slowly  and  regretfully ;  and  when  he 
sat  down  he  stared  at  the  floor.  His 
little  speech  left  every  one  wide-awake 
and  uncomfortable,  and  so  silent  that  the 
fellows  could  hear  the  rain  slapping  in 
gusts  against  the  window-panes  outside. 
His  words  in  the  mouth  of — say  Bax- 
ford  or  Dickey  Dawson  would  have  been 
laughed  at.  As  it  was,  Tommy  mur 
mured  audibly,  <c  c  Kind  hearts  are  more 
than  coronets,' "  but  the  observation  fell 
rather  flat.  McGaw  had  been  painfully 
sincere.  He  had  succeeded,  beyond  a 
doubt,  in  "  getting  his  effect."  Haydock 
knew  that  just  that  sort  of  thing  said 
about  Wolcott,  by  some  one  who  was 
liked  rather  than  otherwise,  and  who  more 
or  less  represented  <c  the  extreme  left,"  was 
peculiarly  fatal.  No  one  else  in  the  room 


1 70  HARVARD    EPISODES 

would  have  talked  in  that  way  under  any 
circumstances,  although  there  were  sev 
eral  men  who  didn't  object  to  hearing  it 
done  so  authoritatively.  Wolcott,  who 
had  seemed  to  be  on  the  verge  of  slip 
ping  into  the  Signet  a  moment  or  two 
before,  was  now  given  seven  black-balls, 
and  dropped  without  comment.  Tony 
Wilson  was  elected  with  a  feeble  burst  of 
applause ;  Haydock  and  Ellis  were  put 
ting  on  their  overcoats  when  the  hat  went 
around,  and  did  n't  vote. 

Haviland  turned  out  the  lights,  and  the 
men  groped  their  way  —  holding  on  to 
one  another  and  striking  matches  from 
time  to  time —  down  the  two  flights  of 
steep,  dark  stairs  to  the  wet  street. 
No  one  spoke  of  the  election  on  the 
way  down.  Had  anything  been  said  it 
would  have  had  to  do,  undoubtedly,  with 
McGaw's  speech  ;  and  McGaw  was  there, 
somewhere  in  the  dark,  with  the  rest  of 
them.  Haviland  walked  with  Ellis  and 
Haydock  as  far  as  the  "  Crimson"  office, 
—  he  hoped  to  get  the  names  of  the  Third 
Seven  into  the  morning  paper.  But  they 
did  n't  talk  of  the  election.  Ellis  was 
boiling  with  righteous  indignation ;  Hay- 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT    171 

dock  was  wondering  who  had  been 
McGaw's  ally  in  black-balling  Wolcott; 
and  Haviland  was  too  glad  to  have  it  over 
with,  and  be  out  in  the  fresh  air,  to  think 
of  the  Signet.  It  was  not  until  Haydock 
and  Ellis  threw  some  fresh  wood  on  the 
fire  at  the  club,  and  sank  into  two  big 
leathern  chairs,  that  they  felt  at  liberty  to 
discuss  the  matter  freely. 

"  I  suppose  it  was  hopeless  from  the 
first,"  mused  Haydock. 

"  It  need  n't  have  been,  — that 's  what 
makes  me  furious,"  returned  Ellis.  "  If 
McGaw  only  could  have  had  an  inkling 
of  who  he  was  keeping  out  — " 

"Yes,  I  think  he  would  have  been  the 
first  to  turn  right  around  and  work  like  a 
pup  to  get  him  in,"  agreed  Haydock. 

"  I  felt  like  jumping  up  and  telling 
everything." 

"  How  awful,  —  think  of  the  scene  !  " 

"Well,  it  wouldn't  have  been  much 
more  damnable  than  it  was  !  Nobody 
knew  where  to  look.  There  was  just 
enough  truth  to  what  McGaw  said  — 
that  and  the  way  he  got  up  and  did  it^ — 
it  was  n't  as  if  anybody  else  had  tried 


to  —  " 


172  HARVARD    EPISODES 

"  The  difference  is  that  McGaw  really 
cared,"  broke  in  Haydock ;  "  there  was 
feeling  behind  it.  It  is  n't  given  to  many 
of  us  to  have  real,  sure-enough  feelings 
around  here  in  college.  Nothing  ever 
seems  to  happen  that  makes  enough  dif 
ference  one  way  or  the  other.  McGaw  's 
one  of  the  kind  that  has  them.  That's 
how  he  got  everyone  to  vote  for  Carver 
the  minute  he  put  him  up.  He  just  felt 
all  over  that  Carver  was  the  right  man  for 
the  place,  and  somehow  everybody  believed 
him.  He  slaughtered  poor  Searsy  by 
the  same  method.  You  see  he 's  the 
sort  of  fellow  who  is  destined  to  be  lis 
tened  to  by  all  kinds  of  people.  The 
masses  like  guts,  while  the  upper  classes 
prefer  expression.  McGaw  has  the  in 
tensity  of  a  fanatic  and  the  manners  of  a 
gentleman ;  his  armament  is  formidable. 
I  should  n't  be  a  bit  surprised  to  hear 
some  day  that  he'd  started  an  entirely 
new  and  plausible  religion,  or  written  a 
book  that  really  proved  something,  or 
reorganised  the  Supreme  Court  on  a  less 
flippant  basis.  The  creature  actually  has 
beliefs  ;  he  's  rather  astonishing.  I  can't 
blame  him  for  giving  it  to  Wolcott  in  the 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT    173 

neck,  when  he  had  such  a  good  chance ; 
but  I  'm  darned  sorry  he  was  inspired  to 
do  it." 

"  I  suppose  you  '11  tell  Sears  all  about 
it,"  said  Ellis. 

"  No,  I  sha'n't,"  answered  Haydock, 
after  a  moment.  "  You  see,  you  never 
can  tell  how  he  is  going  to  take  things  — 
so  what 's  the  use?  The  Signet 's  nothing 
to  him,  and  he  might  be  ever  so  much 
amused  that  McGaw  could  keep  him  out 
of  it.  But  then,  again,  it's  quite  likely 
that  he  'd  carry  on  and  swear  like  a 
trooper,  and  never  do  anything  for 
McGaw  again.  I  know  him  better  than 
you  do.  If  I  ever  do  tell  him,  it'll  be 
some  day  just  after  he 's  won  a  bet,  or 
beaten  me  at  golf,  or  taken  a  prize  at 
the  horse  show ;  not  when  he  's  cooped 
up  in  his  room  with  sore  throat,  the 
way  he  is  now,  railing  at  the  weather 
and  Cambridge  and  the  college,  and 
everybody  who  makes  a  sound  in  the 
hall  near  his  door.  I  'm  devoted  to 
Searsy,  but  I  don't  think  I  have  many 
illusions  about  him." 

"Oh,  I  wish  we  could  tell  McGaw 
about  him  !  It  might  make  McGaw  feel 


174  HARVARD    EPISODES 

badly  just  at  first ;  but  I  'd  be  so  much 
more  comfortable.  Could  n't  we  — just 
to  be  just  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not,"  yawned  Haydock. 
"One  must  have  the  courage  to  be 
unjust." 

And  that,  no  doubt,  would  have  been 
the  end  of  the  McGaw-Wolcott  episode, 
if  tailors  did  n't  exert  such  extraordinary 
influence  over  human  affairs. 

The  next  afternoon,  when  Haydock 
dropped  into  Wolcott's  room  to  see  how 
the  sore  throat  was  getting  along,  he  found 
Wolcott's  mother  and  sister  had  driven 
out  from  Boston  on  the  same  errand. 
Hay  dock's  call  was  opportune,  for  Wol- 
cott,  in  a  few  minutes,  had  another  visitor, 
—  a  somewhat  agitated,  incoherent  young 
man  who  wished  very  much  to  speak  to 
Wolcott  alone.  The  Magnificent  One 
would  have  granted  the  interview  outside 
in  the  hall  had  not  Mrs.  Wolcott  pro 
tested  on  account  of  draughts,  so  he 
took  his  guest  into  his  bed-room,  and 
shut  the  door. 

"  How  very  mysterious  !  "  said  Miss 
Wolcott.  Her  mother  examined  the 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT    175 

closed  door  through  her  glasses.  "  Who 
is  he?" 

"That's  McGaw!"  said  Haydock, 
significantly. 

"  One  of  Sears's  friends  ?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Wolcott.  Haydock  laughed. 

"  I  never  knew  that  he  was,"  he  an 
swered.  Miss  Wolcott  seemed  much 
interested ;  but  her  interest  not  nearly  as 
eager  as  Haydock's.  McGaw's  visit 
baffled  him.  He  couldn't  believe  that 
the  fellow  had  come,  in  a  fit  of  remorse, 
to  apologise  to  Wolcott  for  having  kept 
him  out  of  the  Signet,  —  the  idea  was  fan 
tastic —  ridiculous.  Nor  could  he  think 
it  probable  that  McGaw  had  found  out 
what  Wolcott  had  been  doing  for  him ; 
no  one  but  Barrows  and  Ellis  and  Miss 
Wolcott  and  Haydock  himself  knew. 
The  long  interview  in  Wolcott' s  bed-room 
was  indeed  mysterious.  It  was  something 
of  a  strain  to  Haydock  to  keep  his  atten 
tion  from  wandering  to  the  rise  and  fall 
of  voices  on  the  other  side  of  the  door 
long  enough  to  talk  intelligently  to  Mrs. 
Wolcott ;  and  when,  after  examining  every 
thing  in  the  room,  she  said  that,  since  she 
was  in  Cambridge,  she  thought  she  would 


176  HARVARD    EPISODES 

improve  the  opportunity  of  making  a  call 
somewhere  on  Brattle  Street,  Haydock 
inwardly  applauded  the  intention. 

"He's  not  nearly  as  ill  as  his  note  led 
us  to  believe,"  said  Mrs.  Wolcott.  "  He 
wrote  that  he  was  c  wasted  away  to  a 
shadow,'  and  that  if  we  had  a  desire  — 
from  idle  curiosity  or  any  other  motive  — 
to  see  him  alive,  which  he  doubted,  we  'd 
better  come  out  at  once." 

"  I  was  reassured,"  added  Miss  Wol 
cott,  "  when  I  got  a  note  by  the  next  post, 
saying,  £  Dear  Josephine,  If  you  wear  that 
dowdy  old  felt  hat,  with  the  black  satin 
bow  and  the  brass  buckle,  out  to  Cam 
bridge,  please  sit  downstairs  in  the  vesti 
bule,  while  I  talk  to  mamma/  Sears 
really  ill  is  quite  lamblike." 

cc  So  you  see,  you  must  n't  think  me  an 
unnatural  parent  for  running  away  to  leave 
a  card  on  old  Mrs.  Burlap,"  said  Wol- 
cott's  mother.  Haydock  saw  her  to  the 
carriage,  and  went  back  to  tell  Miss  Wol 
cott  about  the  Signet  meeting,  and  interest 
her  still  more  in  her  brother's  visitor. 
He  softened  the  language  of  McGaw's 
speech  a  little,  although  he  made  its  gen 
eral  import  clear.  His  frequent  talks 


WOLCOTT  THE  MAGNIFICENT    177 

with  Miss  Wolcott  about  Sears  enabled 
him  to. 

"  I  agree  with  Mr.  Ellis,"  she  said, 
when  Haydock  had  finished.  "  I  want 
McGaw  to  know.  It  does  seem  unjust 
to  poor  Searsy." 

"  Maybe  he  does  know,"  replied  Hay- 
dock,  listening  intently  to  the  voices  in 
the  bed-room.  Suddenly  they  ceased. 
Wolcott  burst  into  his  loud  laugh,  and 
both  men  began  to  talk  again  at  once. 
"  I  wish  they  'd  hurry  up  !  "  added  Hay- 
dock,  with  suppressed  excitement.  Then 
the  door  opened,  and  McGaw,  looking  ill 
at  ease,  but  smiling  wanly,  came  out,  fol 
lowed  by  Wolcott,  who  went  with  him  as 
far  as  the  hall. 

"  And  don't  come  before  ten  o'clock," 
Wolcott  said,  shaking  hands.  "  I  'm  not 
often  in  early  in  the  evening."  Wolcott, 
chuckling  delightfully,  came  across  the 
room,  and  laid  a  tiny  oblong  bit  of  white 
linen  on  Haydock's  knee.  On  it  was 
printed  the  name  of  a  Boston  tailor,  fol 
lowed  in  handwriting  by  Wolcott's  name 
and  a  date  and  some  cabalistic  letters  and 
numerals  written  in  a  clear  round  hand. 
Wolcott  folded  his  arms  and  grinned. 


178  HARVARD    EPISODES 

Haydock  knew  where  it  must  have  come 
from,  yet  he  looked  puzzled. 

"  But  I  remember  distinctly  having 
ripped  it  out  that  afternoon  before  you 
sent  them  around  to  Barrows/'  he  said, 
after  a  moment. 

"Out  of  the  coat,  —  not  the  trousers; 
they  sew  them  under  the  right-hand 
pocket  of  the  trousers  sometimes,  —  so 
McGaw  says,"  Wolcott  laughed  like  a 
child.  "  That  pressed  the  button,  so  to 
speak,  and  Barrows,  confound  him  !  did 
the  rest." 

"Well,  well,  well!"  was  all  Haydock 
could  say ;  he  did  n't  like  to  let  Sears 
know  that  he  had  told  Miss  Wolcott,  and 
that  she  was  eager  for  details. 

"  Who  was  that  who  just  went  out, 
Searsy  ? "  asked  Miss  Wolcott,  inno 
cently. 

"That?  Oh  —  a  friend  of  mine,"  an 
swered  The  Magnificent  One,  winking  at 
Haydock,  as  he  took  back  the  tailor's 
label,  and  put  it  in  his  card-case. 


WELLINGTON 

"  T  F  I  'd  only  known  sooner  that  you 
were  coming,  I  could  have  asked 
some  of  the  fellows  round  to  meet  you," 
said  Haydock,  politely.  No  matter  how 
well  you  may  know  a  woman,  you  are 
always  apprehensive  when  she  comes  to 
Cambridge  that  she  has  a  thirst  for  tea. 

"  I  think  I  like  this  better,"  his  mother 
answered,  stopping    to   look   back.      She 
was  a  lady  of  excellent  taste,  yet   almost 
any   one   must    have    preferred  the  Yard 
that  Sunday  afternoon.     The  riotous  new 
green  of  early  spring  had  matured  to  an 
academic  sombreness  that  made  the  elms, 
the    stretches    of   sun-flecked    grass,    the 
tremulous  ivy,  and  the  simple  brick  build 
ings  inseparable  in  one's  thoughts.     The 
dignity  of  the  great  space  between  Grays 
and  Hoi  worthy  had  grown  with  the   late 
afternoon  shadows,  and  Haydock  and  his 
mother,  who  had  sauntered  from  path  to 


i8o  HARVARD    EPISODES 

path,  listening  to  the  leaves,  and  the 
robins,  and  the  quiet  confidences  of  the 
wise  bricks,  talked  of  Harvard.  Although 
the  place  was  large  and  deserted  at  this 
hour,  it  was  far  from  lonely. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  like  this  much  better," 
mused  Mrs.  Haydock  again.  Philip 
looked  pleased. 

"  It 's  always  beautiful,"  he  said  ;  "  and 
there's  so  much  else,"  he  added  rather 
obscurely.  But  his  mother  seemed  to 
know,  for  she  looked  at  him  after  a  mo 
ment  and  answered,  — 

"  I  often  wonder  if  all  women  can  un 
derstand  it,  —  the  other  things,  not  just 
the  beauty,  —  or  if  it 's  only  women  with 
sons  and  brothers  who  come  here." 

"Especially  sons,"  smiled  Philip,  tak 
ing  her  hand  and  swinging  it  to  and  fro, 
as  they  strolled  back  again  toward  Hoi- 
worthy. 

"  But  I  never  shall  find  out  for  sure," 
went  on  Mrs.  Haydock  ;  "  because  even 
the  ones  who  do  feel  the  place,  just  as  if 
they  had  been  here  themselves,  can't 
express  it." 

"  It 's  so  dreadful  to  try,"  said  Philip. 
Then  after  a  moment,  "  I  was  thinking  of 


WELLINGTON  181 

all  the  horrible  Class  Poems  and  Odes 
and  Baccalaureate  Sermons  and  ghastly 
Memorial  Day  orators  that  are  allowed  to 
go  on." 

"  Oh,  they  probably  don't  do  any  harm," 
Mrs.  Haydock  interceded  mildly. 

"  No,  not  positive  harm,"  her  son  ad 
mitted;  "  but  neither  would  a  lot  of  hurdy- 
gurdies  in  Appleton  Chapel."  Once  in  a 
while  Haydock  was  somewhat  extreme. 
Just  now  his  mother  took  occasion  to 
remark  on  that  fact. 

"  No,  really,  I  don't  think  I  am," 
Philip  protested.  "  What  can  they  add 
to  our  feeling  for  Harvard  with  their  trite 
mouthings  about  veritas  and  Memorial 
Hall  ?  Other  places  may  need  that  sort 
of  thing  ;  this  one  does  n't.  Most  of  us 
here  recognise  that  fact,  and  conduct  our 
selves  accordingly.  And  outsiders  mis 
understand  the  attitude ;  Eleanor,  for 
example."  Eleanor  was  a  cousin  with 
Yale  affinities.  "  I  had  to  snub  Eleanor 
once  for  saying,  before  a  lot  of  people, 
that  whenever  she  wanted  to  flatter  a 
Harvard  man,  she  told  him  he  was  blase, 
and,  if  that  did  n't  work,  she  called  him  a 
cynic,  and  if  even  that  would  n't  bring 


i8a  HARVARD    EPISODES 

him    round,   she    hinted    that    he    did  n't 
believe  in  God." 

"  Eleanor  is  a  very  clever,  silly  little 
girl,"  laughed  Mrs.  Haydock. 

"  Eleanor  is  excessively  cheap  at  times," 
corrected  Philip.  "  We  're  not  c  cynical,' 
and  we  're  not  c  blase,'  and  whether  or 
not  we  believe  in  God  is  nobody's  busi 
ness.  If  we  don't  drool  about  the  things 
here  we  care  for  very  much,  it 's  because 
people  who  do  are  indecent ;  they  bore  us." 

"  They  do  bore  one,"  assented  Mrs. 
Haydock. 

"  Once  in  a  while  some  one  does  tear 
out  his  heart  and  drip  it  around  the  stage 
in  Sanders  Theatre  for  the  benefit  of  all 
the  tiresome  old  women  in  Cambridge, 
and  the  Glee  Club  drones  Latin  hymns 
to  a  shiny  upright  piano  hired  for  the 
occasion,  while  the  orator  calms  himself 
with  ice-water  from  the  bedroom  pitcher 
that  is  always  prominent  on  those  occa 
sions.  But  such  performances,  thank  God, 
are  rare." 

"  Why  do  you  go  to  them? "  asked  Mrs. 
Haydock. 

1    •"!    don't,"    said    Philip.     "That    was 
when  I  was  a  freshman,  and  did  n't  know 


WELLINGTON  183 

any  better.  Since  then  I  have  acquired 
'  Harvard  indifference,'  "  he  added,  smiling 
to  himself.  They  left  the  Yard,  lingering 
a  moment  for  another  look  down  the 
leafy  vista,  and  walked  slowly  across  to 
Memorial. 

The  beautiful  transept  was  dark  at  first, 
after  the  sunlight  outside.  Then  it  lifted 
straight  and  high  from  the  cool  dusk  into 
the  quiet  light  of  the  stained  windows. 
Except  for  the  faint  echo  of  their  footsteps 
along  the  marble  floor,  the  two  moved 
from  tablet  to  tablet  in  silence.  Some 
where  near  the  south  door  they  stopped, 
and  Philip  said  simply,  — 

"  This  one  is  Shaw's." 

When  they  passed  on  and  out,  and  sat 
in  the  shade  on  the  steps,  Haydock's 
mother  wiped  her  eyes.  The  long,  silent 
roll-call  always  made  her  do  that. 

"  It  was  a  great,  great  price  to  pay,"  she 
vsaid  at  last. 

",I  never  knew  how  great,"  said  Philip, 

"  until  I  came  here  one  day  and  tried  to 

live  it  all   over,  as  if  it  were   happening 

v  now.     Before  then  the  war  seemed  fine, 

1    and   historic,   and   all   that,    but    ever    so 

far  away.     It's  been  real   since  then.     I 


1 84  HARVARD    EPISODES 

thought  of  how   all  the   little  groups  of 
fellows   would  talk   about  it  in  the  Yard 
between   lectures,  and   read   the  morning 
papers  while  the  lectures  were  going  on ; 
and   how  the  instructors   would    hate   to 
have  to  tell  them  not  to.     And  I  thought 
what  it  would  be  like  to  have  the  men  I 
know  — Alfred  and    Peter    Bradley,   and 
Sears    Wolcott    and    Douglas    and    Billy 
and  Pat,  and  all  of  them,  getting  restless 
and  excited,  and  sitting  up  all  night  at  the 
club,  and  then  throwing  down  their  books 
and  marching  away  to  the  front  to  be  shot ; 
and  how  I  would  have  to  go  along  too, 
because —  well,  you  could  n't  stay  at  home 
while  they  were  being  shot  every  day,  and 
thrown  into  trenches.      I  don't  think  you 
ever  realise  it  very  much  until  you  think 
about  it  that  way." 

"  It  seems,  now,  so  terrible  that  they 
had  to  go,"  Philip's  mother  broke  in  ear 
nestly ;  "such  a  cruel  stamping  out  of 
youth  and  strength  and  happiness  at  the 
very  beginning." 

"  But  it  is  n't  as  if  you  felt  it  were  all  a 
hideous  waste.  It  did  something  great ; 
it 's  doing  something  now.  It  can  never 
stop,"  Philip  added,  gently;  "for  every 


WELLINGTON  185 

year  the  new  ones  come,  —  the  ones  who 
don't  know  yet.  It 's  the  fellows  who  die 
here  at  college  who  always  seem  to  me  so 
thrown  away,  so  wasted,"  he  went  on. 
"They  don't  seem  to  get  their  show, 
somehow, — like  Wellington,  for  instance." 

"  Did  I  meet  Wellington  ?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Haydock,  trying  to  attach  a  personality 
to  the  name.  She  usually  remembered 
Philip's  friends. 

cc  Heavens,  no  !  "  answered  Philip. 
"  Nobody  knew  Wellington,  except  a  few 
of  us,  —  after  he  got  pneumonia  and  died, 
which  he  did  last  February.  He  was  in 
our  class,  and  he  must  have  been  a  nice 
fellow ;  his  mother  was  very  nice.  But 
I  'd  never  heard  of  him.  It  had  just  hap 
pened  that  way,  —  the  way  it  does  here." 

"  Where  did  you  know  his  mother  ?  " 
asked  Mrs.  Haydock. 

"  Why,  I  thought  I  'd  written  you  all 
that.  It  must  have  been  too  long,  or  too 
dreary,  or  something,"  said  Philip. 

"  No,  you  never  told  me." 

"  Well,  the  first  thing  that  I  knew  about 
Hugh  Wellington  was  that  he  came  from 
Chicago,  or  Cleveland,  or  some  place ; 
that  c  his  pleasant  disposition  was  appre- 


1 86  HARVARD    EPISODES 

elated  by  all  who  knew  him ; '  and  that, 
incidentally,  he  was  dead.  I  read  that  in 
the  £  Crimson '  one  morning  in  bed,  and 
I  knew  exactly  what  it  meant ;  because 
when  the  c  Crimson '  is  reduced  to  the 
4  pleasant  disposition'  stage,  there's  a 
good  reason  why." 

Mrs.  Haydock  looked  up  inquiringly. 
"  I  mean,  they  can  't  find  out  anything  ; 
there  's  nothing  to  find  out.  He  went  his 
way  quietly,  —  decently,  I  suppose,  — 
without  knowing  any  one  in  particular. 
No  one  seemed  to  know  him,  not  even 
well  enough  to  say  that  his  disposition 
wasn't  pleasant;  so  the  'Crimson'  gave 
him  the  benefit  of  the  doubt." 

"  It's  the  least  it  could  do  for  any  dead 
man,"  said  Mrs.  Haydock. 

"  And  the  most  that  could  be  done  for 
poor  Wellington,  I  suppose,"  added 
Philip,  thoughtfully.  "After  that,  I 
did  n't  think  of  him  again  —  you  don't, 
you  know ;  among  so  many  it 's  bound  to 
happen  pretty  often  —  until  somebody 
asked  who  he  was,  at  luncheon.  There 
were  ten  of  us  at  the  table,  and  Billy 
Fields  was  the  only  one  who  knew  any 
thing  about  him.  He  said  that  he  sat 


WELLINGTON  187 

next  to  a  man  named  H.  Wellington  in 
some  big  history  course,  and  liked  the 
clothes  he  wore.  I  think  he  and  Billy- 
used  to  nod  to  each  other  in  the  Yard. 
Well,  in  the  natural  course  of  events,  that 
would  have  been  the  end  of  him,  as  far  as 
I  was  concerned,  if  Nate  Lawrence  —  he  's 
the  president  of  the  class  —  had  n't  dashed 
round  to  my  room  that  afternoon  to  ask 
me  what  he  'd  better  do.  Nate  's  a  bully 
chap,  —  a  great,  big  clean  sort  of  a  child 
who  breathes  hard  whenever  he  has  to 
think  of  anything.  He  always  wants  to 
do  the  proper  thing  by  the  class  and  the 
college,  and  we  help  him  out  a  good  deal 
with  resolutions  and  committees  and  im 
promptu  speeches  for  athlete  dinners,  and 
all  that.  He  wanted  me  to  sit  right  down 
and  help  him  draw  up  some  resolutions  of 
sympathy  and  c  get  it  over  with/  he  said. 
After  that  he  could  call  a  class  meeting, 
to  which  no  one  would  come  of  course, 
and  send  the  thing  home  immediately. 
I  could  n't  see  any  particular  necessity 
for  rushing  the  matter,  except  that  Nate 
had  it  very  much  on  his  mind.  It 
was  n't  as  if  the  man  were  alive  and  might 
die  at  any  moment.  So  I  told  him  he  'd 


188  HARVARD    EPISODES 

better  wait  awhile,  and  asked  him  if  he 
knew  anything  about  Wellington  in  the 
first  place.  He  said,  why,  yes,  of  course  — 
he  remembered  the  name  quite  distinctly  ; 
Wellington  had  come  out  for  the  foot 
ball  in  October,  but  had  hurt  his  knee  — 
no,  come  to  think  of  it,  it  might  have 
been  his  collar-bone  —  and  had  dropped 
out  pretty  soon.  He  was  either  the  tall 
lad  with  the  shoulders,  or  that  wiry  little 
man  who  might  have  made  a  good 
quarter-back  if  he  'd  stayed  on.  You  see, 
Wellington  must  have  been  a  mighty 
quiet  sort  of  fellow,  because  Nate  is  a  tre 
mendously  conscientious  president.  He 
can  tell  almost  everybody  apart. 

"  I  said,  c  You  simply  have  to  get  more 
details,  if  you  want  me  to  write  the  letter/ 
I  'm  pretty  good  at  that  kind  of  thing, 
but  I  like  to  have  something  to  go  by, 
naturally;  it  makes  them  easier — more 
spontaneous.  Nate  had  been  up  to  the 
Office  ;  but  I  did  n't  find  anything  very 
available  in  what  he  'd  got  there,  so  we 
looked  up  Wellington's  address  in  the 
Index,  and  went  round  to  his  room  that 
afternoon.  He  lived  in  a  little  house  on 
Kirkland  Street. 


WELLINGTON  189 

cc  It  was  a  perfectly  fiendish  day ;  you  Ve 
never  been  here  in  February,  have  you  ? 
Well,  that 's  the  time  to  see  dear  old 
Cambridge.  It  snows  and  rains  most  of 
the  day,  and  then  stops  to  rest  and  melt  a 
little.  There  are  n't  any  sidewalks  to 
speak  of — just  dirt  paths  with  curb 
stones  that  keep  the  mud  and  stuff  from 
running  off  into  the  street,  so  you  have  to 
walk  in  it  up  to  your  neck,  if  you  want  to 
get  anywhere.  That 's  what  did  Welling 
ton  up,  I  guess. 

"The  front  door  of  his  house  was 
latched,  and  I  was  fumbling  round  under 
the  crape  trying  to  get  hold  of  the  bell, 
when  the  landlady  appeared  ;  you  know  — 
it  makes  me  shudder  now  sometimes, 
when  I  think  of  that  gruesome  old  buz 
zard  of  a  woman.  She  was  a  typical 
Cambridge  landlady, — one  of  those  un- 
corsetted,  iron  grey  slatterns  who  lives  in 
a  rancid  atmosphere  of  hot  soap-suds  and 
never  goes  to  bed  ;  a  room-renting  old 
spider  who  manages  to  break  everything 
you  own,  in  a  listless  sort  of  way,  and  then 
writes  home  to  your  father  that  you 
haven't  paid  your  bill.  This  one  be 
longed  to  the  class  that  looks  on  death  as 


i9o  HARVARD    EPISODES 

a  social  opportunity.  She  was  dressed 
for  the  occasion,  and  greeted  each  of  us 
with  a  kind  of  a  soiled  smile  that  made 
her  old  face  look  like  a  piece  of  dish- 
rag." 

"  Philip  dear." 

"  Well,  it  did.  And  then  she  said 
in  a  loud,  important  whisper, — 

"  '  He  is  n't  upstairs  ;  he 's  in  my  parlor,' 
and  took  us  in  where  poor  Wellington 
was.  It  was  all  so  dreadful,  that  part  of 
it,  that  it  did  n't  seem  sad.  There  were 
three  other  bleary  old  funeral  coaches, — 
more  landladies,  I  suppose,  —  on  a  sofa 
on  one  side,  and  a  girl  with  fuzzy,  yellow 
hair,  in  a  rocking-chair,  on  the  other  ;  she 
was  Mrs.  Finley's  daughter,  I  think.  I  've 
seen  her  round  the  Square  since.  There 
did  n't  seem  to  be  much  of  anything  for 
us  to  do ;  and  Nate  was  awfully  embar 
rassed  and  uncomfortable,  and  seemed  to 
fill  up  most  of  the  space  in  the  horrid 
plushy  little  room.  But  I  did  n't  like  to 
go  away  exactly,  because  it  made  our  com 
ing  there  at  all  seem  so  useless  ;  so  I  said 
to  Mrs.  Finley, —  I  could  n't  think  of  any 
thing  else,  — 

" '  Have  many  of  the  fellows  been  in  ? ' 


WELLINGTON  191 

"  c  No,'  she  whispered  ;  c  nobody  's 
been  in  but  Mis'  Taylor  and  Mis'  Buck- 
son  and  Mis'  Myles.  They  come  at  two/ 
—  it  was  then  after  five,  — c  and  the  Re 
gent.  Mr.  Wellington  was  a  real  quiet 
young  man.  He  did  n't  have  much  com 
pany.  He  stayed  in  his  room  nights  — 
mostly.'  She  stuck  on  c  mostly  '  as  a  sort 
of  afterthought,  and  repeated  it ;  the  old 
fool  had  a  passion  for  accuracy  of  a  vague, 
unimportant  kind  that  almost  drove  me 
crazy.  I  asked  her  if  any  one  else  roomed 
in  the  house.  I  knew  he  must  have  known 
them  if  there  did ;  no  matter  how  objec 
tionable  people  are  at  college,  if  they  room 
near  you,  you  can't  help  borrowing  matches 
from  them  —  I  've  made  lots  of  acquain 
tances  borrowing  matches.  But  no  one 
lived  there  except  two  law  students,  c  real 
nice  gentlemen,  real  nice,'  they  were,  and 
they  were  n't  there  very  much.  Nate 
asked  her  when  the  funeral  was  to  be, 
which  was  the  most  sensible  thing  he 
could  have  done  ;  for  she  took  a  telegram 
from  her  pocket,  and  said,  — 

"  (  His  mother 's  coming  to-night.  She 
was  in  New  York  State  when  he  passed 
away.  They  wa'  n't  able  to  get  her  till 


i92  HARVARD    EPISODES 

this  afternoon/  Then  Nate  and  I  left 
her,  and  I  don't  know  why, —  it  was  n't 
idle  curiosity,  —  but  we  went  up  to  Wel 
lington's  rooms. 

"  They  were  bully  rooms.  You  can 
tell  a  lot  about  a  man  from  his  room 
here.  Wellington  had  no  end  of  really 
good  things  :  rugs  and  books,  —  the 
Edinburgh  Stevenson,  and  that  edition  of 
Balzac  we  have  at  home,  —  and  ever  so 
many  Braun  photographs  —  not  the  every 
day  ones,  but  portraits  and  things  that 
you  felt  he  'd  picked  up  abroad,  because 
he  happened  to  like  them.  And  on  the 
table  —  he  had  a  corking  big  oak  table 
that  filled  up  one  end  of  the  room  —  his 
note-books  and  scratch  block  were  lying 
open,  just  the  way  he'd  left  them  when 
he  stopped  grinding  for  the  exams.  And 
there  was  a  letter  without  a  stamp,  ad 
dressed  to  his  mother,  and  a  little,  picture 
of  his  mother,  with  £  For  Hugo  '  written 
on  the  back.  Then  I  got  to  thinking  of 
his  mother,  and  got  her  mixed  up  with 
you  somehow  or  other.  I  don't  know 
just  how  it  was,  but  you  seemed  to  change 
places  ;  I  could  n't  see  you  apart  for  any 
length  of  time,  and  I  thought  of  you 


WELLINGTON  193 

arriving  at  the  Park  Square  station  all 
alone,  and  trying  to  get  a  cab  in  the  wet, 
and  having  to  pay  the  man  anything  he 
asked  you,  until  I  was  almost  crying,  and 
told  Nate  that  some  one  ought  to  be  there 
to  meet  you  —  Mrs.  Wellington,  I  mean. 
Nate  agreed  with  me,  and  began  to  look 
panicky,  because  he  knew  I  meant  him. 
He  really  ought  to  have  gone  —  it  was  his 
place.  But  I  knew  how  he  felt.  He  kept 
insisting  that  I  could  do  the  thing  much 
better  than  he  could ;  and  it  ended  by 
my  getting  a  carriage  at  about  eight  or 
nine  o'clock,  and  splashing  into  town. 

c  There  was  a  possibility,  of  course, 
that  she  wouldn't  come  alone,  although 
she  had  been  away  from  home,  in  New 
York,  when  she  heard.  But  it  never 
occurred  to  me  that  I  could  miss  her  if 
she  did  come  alone,  although  I  'd  never 
seen  her,  and  felt  sure  she  would  n't  have 
on  black  veils  and  things.  You  can't 
imagine  all  the  different  things  I  thought 
of  to  say  to  her  while  I  was  walking  up 
and  down  the  platform  waiting  for  the 
train  to  come  in.  They  all  sounded  so 
formal  and  sort  of  undertakery,  that  I 
knew  I  should  n't  say  any  of  them  when 
13 


194 


HARVARD    EPISODES 


the  time  came.  But  I  could  n't  think 
of  anything  else  —  the  one  right  one,  I 
mean. 

"  Well,  she  came  on  the  first  train  she 
possibly  could  have  come  on  after  sending 
the  telegram,  and  I  knew  her  at  once. 
She  was  the  very  last  person  to  get  out 
of  the  car.  It  was  n't  that,  or  because  she 
looked  different — anybody  else  would 
have  said  she  was  very,  very  tired ;  but 
I  just  knew  her,  and  before  I  could  think 
of  any  of  those  other  things,  I  took  her 
travelling-bag  and  said,  — 

"  c  I'm  one  of  Hugh's  friends.' 

"  I  did  n't  see  her  when  I  said  it,  —  only 
her  hands,  —  because  I  was  looking  down 
at  the  bag."  Haydock  paused  a  moment. 

"  I  think  it  was  the  right  thing,  dear  — 
the  only  one,"  said  his  mother,  softly. 

"  It 's  a  long,  long  drive  to  Cambridge, 
even  if  you  know  where  you  are  all  the 
time.  But  with  the  windows  all  blurred, 
and  nothing  to  mark  the  way  except  the 
rumble  of  the  bridge  or  the  car-tracks, 
or  some  bright  light  you  know  pretty 
well,  that  tells  you  you  haven't  gone 
nearly  so  far  as  you  thought  you  had, 
it 's  terrible.  We  did  n't  say  anything  on 


WELLINGTON  195 

the  way.  She  leaned  back  in  the  corner  ; 
I  think  she  was  crying.  Mrs.  Finley  — 
the  landlady  —  heard  us  coming,  and  had 
the  door  open  when  we  got  out ;  I  made 
her  go  upstairs  with  me,  and  told  her  not 
to  dare  to  go  near  that  room  and  —  and 
disturb  them.  She  's  just  the  sort  of  a 
woman  who  would.  It  was  almost  mid 
night  then,  and  I  sat  there  until  after  two. 
I  tried  to  grind  for  a  Fine  Arts'  examina 
tion  out  of  one  of  Wellington's  books  — 
he  must  have  been  taking  the  same  course 

—  until  the  door  downstairs  opened  and 
closed,  and  I  heard  Mrs.  Wellington  come 
slowly  up  the  steps.     I  put  the  book  on 
the   mantelpiece ;    it  seemed   heartless    to 
be  reading  there  by  his  fire  when  she  came 
in. 

"  She  was  a  very  brave  woman,  I  think 

—  brave  and  civilised.     She  walked  slowly 
round  the  room,  sort  of  touching  things 
here  and  there ;  and  she  stopped  a   long 
time  at  the  table,  and  put  her  hand  on  the 
note-books  gently,  as  if  she  were  stroking 
them,  and  then  closed  them." 

"  Did  she  find  the  letter?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Haydock. 

"  No,  I  gave  that  to  her  later  on  —  I 


196  HARVARD    EPISODES 

had  it  in  my  pocket  then.  I  did  n't  want 
her  to  find  it  herself;  it  always  makes 
you  jump  so  to  see  your  own  name  writ 
ten  out,  when  you  're  not  looking  for  it. 
Then  she  sat  down  in  a  chair  near  me 
and  stared  at  the  fire.  I  asked  her  if  she 
wanted  me  to  go  away ;  and  she  said,  no, 
she  was  glad  I  was  there.  We  talked  a 
little  —  I  could  n't  say  much  ;  my  posi 
tion  was  queer  you  know  —  not  what  she 
thought  it  was.  But  it  did  n't  seem  wrong 
as  long  as  I  stayed  just  because  she  wanted 
me  to,  and  I  hated  to  spoil  it  by  saying 
things  that  could  n't  ring  true.  She  talked 
about  Hugh  in  such  a  quiet  wonderful 
way  that  every  now  and  then  I  found  my 
self  wondering  if  she  really  knew.  Some 
times  she  doubted  it  herself,  I  think,  for 
she  left  me  twice  and  went  slowly  down 
stairs  as  if  she  wanted  to  make  sure. 
When  daylight  came,  she  went  in  and  lay 
down  on  his  bed.  I  put  out  the  lamps 
and  wrote  a  note  saying  where  my  room 
was  if  she  wanted  to  send  for  me. 

"At  breakfast  I  got  hold  of  Bradley 
and  Sears  Wolcott  and  Billy  and  four  or 
five  other  fellows,  and  told  them  they 
simply  had  to  go  round  there  at  noon. 


WELLINGTON  197 

and  that  some  of  them  would  have  to  go 
into  the  station  with  me.  They  did  n't 
see  any  particular  reason  for  it  at  first ; 
most  of  them  were  grinding  for  the  exams, 
and  Sears  had  an  engagement  to  play 
court  tennis  and  lunch  at  the  B.  A.  A. 
He  said  he  did  n't  see  why  the  man's 
friends  were  n't  enough  without  dragging 
out  a  lot  of  heelers  who'd  never  heard  of 
him,  let  alone  never  having  met  him. 
He  was  n't  c  going  to  be  any  damned 
hired  crocodile  ! '  he  said.  You  see,  they 
could  n't  understand  that  if  they  did  n't 
go,  there  probably  would  n't  be  anybody 
there  but  the  preacher  and  Mrs.  Finley, 
and  those  horrible  men  with  the  black 
satin  ties  and  cotton  gloves  who  carry  you 
in  and  out  when  there 's  no  one  else  round 
to  do  it.  But  they  all  came  at  last  — 
even  Sears,  grumbling  till  he  got  inside 
the  gate.  Nate  brought  three  or  four 
fellows  round  from  his  club,  and  an  arm 
ful  of  red  and  white  roses  c  from  the  class/ 
he  told  Mrs.  Wellington.  It  was  a  nice 
little  lie.  I  was  surprised  that  Natey 
thought  of  it.  The  Regent  came,  and 
Mr.  Barrows,  the  college  secretary,  and 
poor  old  Miss  Shedd,  Wellington's  wash- 


198  HARVARD   EPISODES 

woman.  She  was  awfully  cut  up,  poor 
old  thing,  and  made  it  as  bad  as  possible 
for  everybody.  That  was  about  all,  I 
think.  Plummer,  the  college  preacher, 
was  simple  and  manly ;  Heaven  knows 
he  couldn't  very  well  have  been  anything 
else  under  the  circumstances.  And  then 
we  had  that  interminable  drive  again,  back 
to  Boston. 

"  I  was  in  the  carnage  with  Mrs.  Well 
ington.  Any  of  us  could  have  gone  with 
her  just  as  well,  I  suppose,  because  we 
were  all  Hugh's  friends,  although  I  was 
the  only  one  who  knew  that  we  were.  But 
I  wanted  to  ride  with  her  somehow,  and 
I  'm  glad  now  that  I  did,  for  a  very  queer 
thing  happened  ;  I  've  never  quite  under 
stood  it.  She  did  n't  say  anything  for 
ever  so  long,  not  until  we  got  across  the 
bridge  and  the  carriage  began  to  go  slower. 
Then  she  put  one  of  her  hands  on  mine, 
and  said,  — 

"  £  I  did  n't  know  at  first  that  you  were 
Haydock,  not  until  I  found  your  note. 
I  'm  very,  very  glad  to  know,  because 
Hugh  used  to  talk  more  about  you  in  his 
letters  and  when  he  was  at  home  than  he 
did  about  any  of  the  others.  I  think  he 


WELLINGTON  199 

looked  up  to  you  most  of  all/  and  she 
told  me  some  of  the  things  he  had  said 
and  written." 

Haydock  often  wondered  if  repeating 
things  to  your  mother  that  you  would  n't 
repeat  to  any  one  else,  made  up  for  the 
things  you  could  n't  tell  her  at  all.  This 
passed  through  his  mind  now. 

"  I  'm  afraid  it 's  just  as  well  I  never  met 
Wellington/'  he  added.  "Well,  there 
was  n't  much  else.  When  we  got  to  the 
station,  I  left  Nate  and  the  others  to  attend 
to  things,  and  went  into  the  car  with  Mrs. 
Wellington.  She  had  the  stateroom,  —  I'd 
got  that  for  her  when  I  went  in  town  in 
the  morning, —  and  there  was  n't  anything 
to  do  but  give  her  her  ticket,  and  say  good 
bye.  I  had  a  feeling  as  if  I  ought  to  go 
on  with  her  and  see  the  thing  through  ; 
but  I  'd  cut  one  examination  already  —  I 
managed  to  flunk  two  more  —  and  she 
probably  would  n't  have  let  me  anyhow. 
I  did  hunt  up  the  conductor  and  give 
him  the  other  ticket,  —  you  have  to  have 
two,  you  know, —  and  told  him  to  take 
care  of  it,  and  not  let  her  see  it ;  it  had  a 
grisly  word  scribbled  across  it.  She  smiled 
when  she  said  good-bye  —  oh,  so  sadly." 


200  HARVARD    EPISODES 

Haydock  stood  up  and  stretched  him 
self. 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  from  her  again  ?  " 
asked  Mrs.  Haydock. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  had  a  letter  very  soon.  I 
had  all  his  books  and  furniture  and  stuff 
packed  up  and  sent  home,  you  know. 
She  told  me  to  keep  anything  I  wanted, 
because  —  oh,  I  '11  show  you  the  letter 
some  day.  I  kept  the  picture  with  c  For 
Hugo  '  written  on  the  back.  It 's  over 
in  my  room."  He  went  down  the  steps, 
Mrs.  Haydock  following.  They  walked 
along  the  Delta,  past  John  Harvard,  and 
across  to  one  of  the  paths  in  the  Yard 
once  more,  sprinkled  now  with  men  hur 
rying  to  Memorial. 

"  It  was  such  a  queer  waste,  his  having 
lived  and  come  here  at  all,"  mused  Philip. 
"  I  suppose  that  sounds  awfully  kiddish 
and  tiresome  to  you,  does  n't  it  ? "  he 
asked  more  lightly,  looking  at  his  mother. 

"  No,"  she  answered  ;  "  it  sounded  very 
old  the  way  you  said  it." 


BUTTERFLIES 

JOHN  RICE  —  somehow  he  was  never 
called  "Jack"— and  Billy  Ware 
roomed  together,  it  was  said,  because 
their  mothers  were  congenial.  These 
ladies  certainly  had,  in  common,  the  bond 
of  sweet  stupidity,  or  they  never  would 
have  put  into  practice  the  ideal  arrange 
ment  of  having  their  sons  share  the  same 
apartment.  Rice  was  always,  and  with 
justice,  spoken  of  as  "  a  very  fine  man." 
He  was  well  put  together  and  fine  look 
ing.  His  sense  of  duty  was  fine,  also  his 
sense  of  honour.  He  possessed  a  fine  lot 
of  commonplace  ideas  about  many  things, 
and  carried  with  him  an  air  of  fine,  if  in 
definite,  purpose.  On  the  whole,  Billy 
considered  him  uninteresting. 

Billy,  on  the  other  hand,  was  fatally 
gifted  in  his  ability  to  please  everybody. 
Other  things  being  satisfactory,  personal 
appearance  does  n't  weigh  heavily  in  the 


202  HARVARD    EPISODES 

balance  of  undergraduate  judgment ;  it 
was  not  Billy's  extremely  pretty  and  well 
cared  for  exterior  that  compelled  fellows 
to  take  him  into  account  in  their  prelimi 
nary  survey  of  the  Freshman  Class ;  al 
though  that  may  have  helped,  just  at  first. 
People  who  liked  the  plasticity  of  his 
quick  smile  and  the  restlessness  of  his 
black  eyebrows  —  there  was  something 
very  un-Anglo-Saxon  in  their  facial  im 
portance  —  thought  he  had  "an  expressive 
face."  But  what  it  expressed,  if  anything, 
no  man  undertook  to  say.  Hemenway, 
who  drew  for  the  "  Lampoon,"  said  it  was 
a  sketch,  not  a  face,  —  the  sketch  of  a 
painter  who  did  n't  take  art  seriously. 
Neither  was  it  cleverness  that  made  fellows 
who  met  Ware  remember  him  favourably, 
if  they  happened  to  be  upper  classmen, 
and  glad  of  a  subsequent  occasion  that 
threw  them  in  his  way,  if  they  were  his 
own  classmates.  For  Billy  had  none 
of  the  talents  of  which  parlour  tricks  are 
made.  In  the  presence  of  older  boys,  he 
instinctively  knew  the  number  and  kind 
of  remarks  that  gain  for  a  freshman 
the  negative  distinction  of  being  "  able  to 
talk  enough."  With  his  contemporaries, 


BUTTERFLIES  203 

he  talked  a  great  deal  —  almost  up  to  the 
line  that  separated  him  from  youths  who 
chatter.  But  except  for  a  whimsical  man 
ner  of  attack,  and  his  consistent  frivolity 
of  tone  in  regard  to  almost  everything, 
his  conversation  was  unimportant.  What 
he  did  possess,  to  a  rather  extraordinary 
degree,  was  that  which,  if  given  the  field, 
is  more  magical  among  one's  fellows  at 
college  than  brains,  manners,  looks,  or 
money,  —  that  which  is  described  only  as 
cc  the  indescribable  something/' 

And  Billy  had  the  field.  S.  Timothy's 
sent  fifteen  men  to  Harvard  that  year; 
he  knew  them  all,  of  course,  and  roomed 
with  the  very  fine  one.  They  all  flocked 
together  at  first,  until  the  acquaintance  of 
each  equalled  the  fourteen  others  plus 
fourteen  times  the  friends  of  every  one  of 
them  —  which  is  all  one  knows,  arid  all 
one  needs  to  know.  The  number  —  it  in 
cluded  the  nebular  hypothesis  of  the  next 
year's  Institute  and  a  few  more  —  kept 
Billy's  head  wagging  incessantly  in  and 
about  Cambridge.  Of  all  this  throng 
Billy  was  probably  interested  least  in  the 
man  with  whom  he  roomed.  John  Rice 
was  a  constant  and  living  reminder  of 


204  HARVARD   EPISODES 

S.  Timothy's ;  Billy  detested  S.  Tim 
othy's.  He  used  to  tell  John  pleasantly, 
that  he  not  only  did  n't  like  the  school  or 
anything  he  had  learned  there,  but  that  it 
had  bored  him  extremely  for  six  years, 
although  he  had  n't  perhaps  realised  it  at 
the  time. 

"Spend  next  Sunday  with  you  up  at 
School  ?  "  he  would  say,  airily,  to  this  fre 
quent  suggestion  of  John's.  "  My  dear 
fellow,  how  foolishness  !  My  life-work 
consists  just  now  in  forgetting  S.  Tim 
othy's."  Then  he  would  pull  John's 
hair,  or,  perhaps,  shy  harmless  missiles  at 
him  from  across  the  room ;  for  he  knew 
that  John  was  abjectly  grateful  for  any 
semi-affectionate  demonstrations  of  this 
nature,  and  it  amused  Billy  to  be  liked  by 
people,  —  people  for  whom  he  did  n't  par 
ticularly  care.  He  did  n't  care  much  for 
John  ;  he  found  him  solicitous  rather  than 
sympathetic.  John  was  too  contemplative 
—  too  "  set "  ;  he  refused  to  accept  fresh 
man  standards  and  go  ahead  accordingly. 
Billy,  who  managed,  before  he  was 
through,  to  spread  himself  uncommonly 
thin  over  a  considerable  area,  fancied  that 
he  thought  his  room-mate  pitifully  prud- 


BUTTERFLIES  205 

ent.  For  when  Billy  entered  college,  he 
proceeded  from  the  very  first  to  expand  in 
the  largeness  and  fulness  of  his  glorious 
new  life.  People  said,  afterwards,  his 
development  had  been  so  slight  and  so 
artificial,  in  the  stained-glass  atmosphere 
of  his  imitation  English  "  fitting  "  school, 
that  it  made  up  for  lost  time  at  a  most 
astonishing  rate  when  the  boy  became  his 
own  master.  He  was  very  much  like  a 
supersensitive  photograph  plate  in  the 
hands  of  a  bungler.  If  you  know  what 
it  does  on  being  plunged  into  the  develop 
ing  solution,  you  have  an  idea  of  Billy's 
Freshman  year. 

He  had  been  such  a  nice  little  boy  at 
S.  Timothy's,  —  piping  liquidly  in  an  an 
gelic  "nighty"  at  Chapel,  —  that  when 
the  inevitable  rumours  reached  there,  the 
rector  and  the  masters  were  deeply  pained 
to  learn  that  still  another  butterfly  had 
burst  from  the  godly  chrysalis.  They 
assumed  lank,  pre-Raphaelite  expressions, 
and  murmured,  "Oh,  Harvard — Har 
vard  ! "  Billy  himself  was  not  left  in 
ignorance  of  their  distress ;  there  was 
always  John,  of  course ;  and  from  time  to 
time  biblical  excerpts,  skilfully  tortured 


206  HARVARD   EPISODES 

into  the  form  of  letters,  came  to  him 
through  the  mails.  Somebody-or-other's 
pamphlet  on  "  The  Life  Beautiful,"  and 
a  horrid  looking  little  thing  in  white  cellu 
loid  covers,  entitled  "  Daily  Seeds  for 
Daily  Needs,"  were  also  slipped  through 
his  letter-slide  one  morning  —  all  of 
which,  in  turn,  caused  Billy  to  murmur, 
"Oh,  S.  Timothy's  — S.  Timothy's!" 
His  attitude  toward  S.  Timothy's  rapidly 
became  that  of  one  who  places  his  thumb 
upon  his  nose  and  extends  the  fingers  of 
his  hand. 

"  '  Descensus  avernifacilis  estj  "  John,  in 
one  of  his  more  playful  moods,  had  re 
marked  to  him  one  evening.  To  which 
Billy  had  replied,  "  Ah,  yes  —  E  pluribus 
unum  nux  vomica  facile  princeps,  as  dear 
old  Virgil  used  to  say."  He  was  stand 
ing  before  the  mirror  in  his  bedroom 
adjusting  an  evening  tie.  Four  crumpled 
failures  already  lay  on  the  floor;  from 
time  to  time  Billy  kicked  at  them  as  he 
moved  about,  or  arrested  the  progress  of 
his  toilet  to  inhale  deeply  from  the  ciga 
rette  that  had  already  burned  several  holes 
in  the  cover  of  his  dressing-table.  John 
was  sitting  on  the  bed,  gravely  watch- 


BUTTERFLIES  207 

ing    the    boy    dress    for     the    "  Friday 
Evening." 

"  Do  you  think  you  '11  come  back  to 
night  ?  "  he  asked. 

"That's  the  delightful  part  of  it  all  — 
I  don't  know,"  answered  Billy,  with  a 
shrug.  He  hadn't  told  John  where  he 
was  going  after  the  dancing-class,  because 
John,  by  various  pathetic  little  indirect 
remarks,  had  displayed  unmistakable  in 
terest  in  his  movements.  Billy  withheld 
the  satisfaction  it  would  have  given  his 
room-mate  to  know  all  about  him,  partly 
because  he  wished  to  discourage  a  growing 
tendency,  and  for  the  reason  that  John's 
—  or  any  one's  —  serious  concern  always 
aroused  in  him  pleasant  sensations  of 
silliness,  accompanied  by  a  desire  to 
giggle. 

"  After  all  —  Boston  is  a  busy  little 
place,  is  n't  it  Johnny  ?  "  his  smile  was 
radiant  with  mystery.  "  Don't  sit  up  for 
me,  old  man  —  unless  you  care  for  winter 
sunrises,"  he  added,  imitating  the  tones 
he  so  often  heard  in  Sanborn's  billiard 
place,  and  laughing  at  the  way  they 
sounded.  cc  By  the  way,  what  are  you 
going  to  do  to-night,  —  something  devilish 


208  HARVARD    EPISODES 

of  course,  —  but  what  ?  "  He  was  n't 
asking  for  information ;  he  knew  that 
John  usually  spent  his  evenings  quietly  at 
home,  or  went  to  see  one  of  the  S. 
Timothy's  boys,  and  talk  foot-ball  or  the 
intricacies  of  English  A. 

"  I  ?  Oh,  I  was  thinking  of  going  over 
to  Claverly  to  see  Haydock,"  —  Haydock 
was  a  senior.  "  He  asked  us  to  drop  in 
often,  you  know,"  said  John,  so  casually 
that,  after  the  manner  of  absolutely  honest 
persons  who  attempt  a  subtlety,  he  "  gave 
himself  away." 

"  Translated,  I  suppose  that  means  I 
haven't  been  there  very  often  —  that  I 
have  n't  been  there  at  all,  in  fact  ? "  said 
Billy,  sweetly.  He  was  thinking  to  him 
self  that  when  John  aimed  at  "  foxiness," 
he  usually  made  a  very  successful  cow  of 
himself. 

"  I  may  have  been  thinking  that," 
admitted  John,  blushing  a  little  ;  "  but  you 
really  have  n't  been  there,  you  know,  and 
after  the  way  you  did  n't  turn  up  the  night 
he  asked  us  to  dine  —  " 

"  Turn  up  ?  Turn  up  ?  "  said  Billy, 
with  a  giggle  at  an  imagined  picture  of 
himself  turning  up  at  the  Victoria  to  dine 


BUTTERFLIES 


209 


with  Haydock  and  John.  "  Why,  man,  I 
was  dead  to  the  world  —  I  was  a  corpse  ! 
Turn  up  ?  I  turned  up  about  two  days 
later,  and  did  n't  know  where  I  was  then. 
If  you  had  any  gratitude  in  your  withered 
old  gizzard,  you  'd  never  stop  thanking 
me  for  not  turning  up." 

"  It  was  n't  the  right  thing,"  was  John's 
comment.  The  appearance  just  then  of 
Dilly  Bancroft,  for  whom  Billy  was  wait 
ing,  averted  the  discussion  —  the  one 
sided  kind  Rice  and  Ware  always  had  — 
in  which  Billy  played  matadore  and  pica 
dor,  with  grace  and  agility,  to  John's 
brave  but  ineffectual  bull. 

"I'm  all  ready.  Let's  dash  along; 
you  're  late,  Dilly,"  said  Billy,  slipping  into 
his  coat.  He  had  a  keen  instinct  in  the 
matter  of  personal  antagonisms.  He 
always  felt  them  long  before  they  were  ex 
pressed,  often  before  they  were  even  con 
ceived.  John  had  never  said  much  of 
anything  about  Billy's  friend  Bancroft  — 
not  even  when  that  young  man  had  seen  fit 
to  break  training  some  months  before,  on 
the  Freshman  Eleven.  But  in  spite  of 
John's  hearty  (suspiciously  hearty,  thought 
Billy),  «  Hello,  Dilford,  how  are  you  ?  " 
14 


210  HARVARD    EPISODES 

Billy  knew.  Anything  of  the  kind  an 
noyed  him  —  especially  in  his  own  room, 
where  he  felt  it  his  right  to  have  whom  he 
pleased.  He  escaped  with  Bancroft  as 
soon  as  possible.  John  struck  him  just 
then  as  a  very  tiresome  person  to  be 
saddled  with.  The  two  left,  looking  so 
clean  and  well-bred  and  young  and  alto 
gether  inconsequent  in  their  good  clothes, 
that  John  could  not  but  smile  to  himself 
and  think  kindly  of  them  for  a  moment 
as  they  clattered  down  the  stairs  and  out 
into  the  Yard. 

Haydock  was  at  home  when  Rice 
knocked  at  his  door  in  Claverly  later  in 
the  evening.  It  was  always  with  a  feeling 
of  satisfaction  that  one  went  into  Hay- 
dock's  study.  Haydock  himself  had 
none  of  the  disconcerting  habits  of  most 
people.  He  never  came  to  the  door  with 
an  open  book  in  one  hand  and  a  green 
shade  over  his  eyes,  protesting,  with  a 
worried  expression,  that  you  had  n't 
stopped  his  work  and  spoiled  his  evening 
generally.  He  never  shook  you  by  the 
hand  and  seemed  unnecessarily  glad  to  see 
you.  He  never  began  the  conversation 
by  asking,  after  a  stupid  pause,  the  stupider 


BUTTERFLIES  211 

question,  "  Well,  how  are  you  getting 
along  ?"  It  was  impossible  to  feel  that 
your  arrival  interrupted  him  in  the  least, 
as  his  door  was  usually  unlatched,  and  he 
rarely  seemed  to  be  engaged  in  anything 
more  urgent  than  filling  his  pipe,  putting 
a  fresh  log  on  the  fire,  or  perhaps  strolling 
about  looking  at  things,  —  occupations 
suggesting  somehow,  that  Haydock  had 
been  trying  to  kill  time  until  you  should 
drop  in.  To-night  he  was  improving  the 
angle  at  which  his  various  pictures  hung. 

"  Do  you  suppose  there  ever  was  any 
thing  more  maddening  than  a  really  con 
scientious  'goody'?"  he  said,  as  John 
came  in,  —  "  the  kind  who  has  a  passion  for 
dusting,  a  positive  lust  for  it  ?  Just  look 
at  these  pictures  !  "  He  straightened  the 
photograph  of  a  Florentine  saint,  whose 
asceticism,  at  a  rakish  deflection  from  the 
perpendicular,  had  ceased  to  impress. 

"  I  don't  think  we  're  bothered  very 
much  by  conscientious  c  goodies '  over  in 
Matthews,"  answered  John  ;  "one  of  them 
broke  Billy's  pipe  this  morning." 

"  Has  William  taken  up  smoking  ?  " 
laughed  Haydock. 

"  Well,  rather." 


212  HARVARD    EPISODES 

"  Surprising,  is  n't  it,"  mused  the  other. 
He  really  was  n't  surprised  a  bit.  He  and 
Billy  had  been  born  and  brought  up  next 
door  to  each  other  ;  he  knew  the  type  and 
the  temperament.  He  also  was  aware 
that  Billy  was  an  enthusiastic  member  of 
the  Polo  Club. 

Haydock  had  tried  to  see  something 
of  the  child  during  his  first  month  or  two 
in  college. 

"  An  older  boy  can  do  so  much  for  a 
younger  one,  Philip,"  Mrs.  Ware  had 
said  to  him,  with  her  hazy  maternal  trust 
fulness,  just  before  college  opened.  cc  Wil 
liam  is  fond  of  you,  I  know ;  and  it 's  a 
great  comfort  to  feel  that  you  will  be  there, 
and  that  he  's  going  to  room  with  John." 
If  the  good  woman  derived  tranquillity  of 
mind  from  the  fact  that  her  son  and  Hay- 
dock  chanced  to  inhabit  the  same  town, 
Haydock  did  not  consider  it  worth  while 
to  explain  that  the  coincidence,  regarded 
in  the  light  of  its  moral  significance,  was 
unimportant.  He  had  called  on  Billy 
and  John  as  soon  as  they  were  settled  ;  but 
Billy  had  never  returned  the  compliment, 
although  John  did  frequently.  Once  he 
had  asked  the  room-mates  to  dinner;  Billy, 


BUTTERFLIES  213 

he  learned  later,  had  been  too  drunk  that 
evening  to  recall  the  engagement  for  the 
moment.  Since  then,  the  helpful  influ 
ence,  in  the  belief  of  which  Mrs.  Ware 
existed  placidly,  had  perforce  exerted  itself 
across  a  theatre,  or  from  the  platform  of  a 
passing  electric  car. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mind  his  smoking,"  said 
John,  with  the  faintest  emphasis  on  the 
last  word. 

"  No  ?  "  Haydock  kept  his  back  turned, 
and  continued  to  touch  delicately,  here  and 
there,  the  corners  of  his  picture  frames. 
Asa  matter  of  fact,  he  made  some  of  them 
rather  more  crooked  than  they  were  at 
first.  But  he  felt  that  if  he  did  n't  deter 
John  by  turning  suddenly  and  giving  him 
all  attention,  he  would  hear  the  whole 
story ;  John  very  evidently  had  brought 
one  with  him. 

"  Of  course,  I  don't  smoke,  myself," 
John  went  on  slowly  ;  "  it 's  just  happened 
that  way,  I  suppose.  But  I  don't  mind 
it  in  Billy.  You  can  always  stop  if  it 
begins  to  hurt  you.  I  think  I  like  to 
see  him  do  it,"  he  ended,  with  unusual 
tolerance. 

"Yes,"  agreed    Haydock,  deliberately, 


214  HARVARD    EPISODES 

"if  it  hurts  you,  you  can  always  stop 
smoking."  He,  too,  emphasised  the  last 
word  softly,  in  a  way  that  left  the  tale 
still  untold.  Haydock  was  something  of 
an  artist  in  assisting  confidences  where 
the  spirit  was  willing  and  the  vocabulary 
weak. 

"Ware  is  really  a  bully  chap  ;  he  was 
a  perfect  corker  at  school."  John's  re 
mark  was  a  circuitous  paraphrase  of,  "  Isn't 
it  too  bad  !  " 

"He  certainly  is  most  attractive  ;  I  Ve 
rarely  known  anybody  who  was  more  so," 
Haydock  assented,  with  an  enthusiasm 
he  genuinely  felt ;  "  but  I  don't  see  much 
of  him  now."  His  regret,  too,  was 
real. 

"  That 's  it !  that 's  just  it !  "  John  burst 
out  so  hotly  that  the  senior,  who  was  fill 
ing  his  pipe  at  the  table,  almost  looked 
up  in  ill-timed  surprise.  "  Nobody  sees 
anything  of  him  any  more ;  nobody  who 
ought  to,  like  you." 

"  And  you,"  added  Haydock,  to  him 
self.  The  situation  was  perennial ;  he 
divined  it  perfectly. 

"  Nobody  but  that  damned  Dilford  Ban 
croft  and  that  gang,"  continued  John. 


BUTTERFLIES  215 

"  Billy  could  know  any  one  in  the  class 
that  's  worth  knowing ;  he  really  does 
know  every  one.  But  you  understand 
what  I  mean,  they  're  not  his  friends  ;  he 
does  n't  go  to  their  rooms,  and  they  don't 
come  to  ours.  It's  always  Bancroft  and 
just  a  few  sports  like  that." 

"  Cheap  sports  ?  "  Haydock  questioned. 
He  knew  no  more  of  Bancroft  than  that 
he  was  a  decorative  young  person  whose 
somewhat  liberal  views  on  the  subject  of 
training  for  a  foot-ball  eleven  had  stirred 
a  ripple  of  indignation  throughout  the 
college  in  the  autumn,  and  provoked  some 
caustic  reflections  in  the  editorial  columns 
of  the  "  Harvard  Crimson." 

"  No,  I  don't  suppose  they  're  c  cheap ' 
sports,"  admitted  the  honest  John,  — 
"  not  the  way  you  mean." 

"  Expensive  sports,  then  ?  " 

"  Well,  if  you  mean  that  they  seem  to 
know  how  to  do  the  things  that  ought  n't 
to  be  done  at  all,  the  way  they  ought  to 
be  done,  if  you  do  them  — "  began  John, 
a  trifle  obscurely. 

"  Yes,  that 's  precisely  what  I  mean." 

"  Then  they  are  c  expensive '  sports,  I 
suppose." 


2i6  HARVARD    EPISODES 

"And  Billy  has  become  absorbed  by 
them  ?  " 

"  He  does  n't  care  to  see  any  one  else, 
as  far  as  I  know." 

"  Perhaps  it 's  merely  a  passing  phase." 

"  I  can't  see  that  that  cuts  any  particu 
lar  ice,  if  he  is  going  to  be  ruined  before 
it  passes/'  John  objected. 

"  But  he  won't  be,"  put  in  Haydock, 
confidently. 

"  What  can  possibly  save  him  ?  "  John 
was  terribly  in  earnest.  "  His  best  friends 
are  loafers  and  snobs  ;  they  never  learn 
anything,  and  they  all  drink  too  much. 
All  they  want  is  a  good  time, —  the  wrong 
kind  of  a  good  time.  Who  is  going  to 
make  him  take  a  brace  ?  I  've  tried,  and 

I  can't ;  the  college  does  n't  seem  to  give 

» 
a  — 

"  Hold  on  —  hold  on  —  hold  on,"  broke 
in  Haydock ;  "  give  the  college  a  show. 
What  do  you  expect  the  college  to  do 
anyhow  ?  Supply  wet-nurses  for  all  the 
silly  little  boys  who  make  themselves  sick 
on  cocktails  at  the  Adams  House  ?  " 

"  It  could  do  something." 

"  Yes,  and  does  n't  it,  —  the  very  finest 
thing  in  the  world  !  Does  n't  it  allow  all 


BUTTERFLIES  217 

sorts  of  men  to  come  here,  and  give  them 
the  chance  of  their  lives  to  learn  about 
everybody  and  everything  that  was  ever 
good  or  great  or  worth  learning  about  ? 
Is  n't  it  willing  to  share  the  very  best  of 
what  it  has,  —  and  it  has  everything,  —  its 
traditions  and  its  knowledge  and  its  beauty? 
Does  n't  it  want  to  make  the  fellows  here 
part  of  it  all,  if  they  only  have  the  guts 
to  keep  their  heads  up,  and  follow  along 
the  road  it  has  built  for  them  ?  Is  there 
any  place  else  where  you  can  live  for  four 
years — the  four  important  ones  —  and 
know  that  the  standard  of  everything  held 
up  to  you  can't  change,  like  the  trivial  little 
standards  of  other  places,  that  the  aim 
won't  swerve,  no  matter  what  happens,  and 
that  they  are  the  highest,  the  best  ?  Is  n't 
that  doing  something  —  everything  ?  " 

Haydock  was  occasionally  enthusiastic 
in  a  calm,  thoughtful  sort  of  way. 

"  I  know  what  you  mean  —  I  Ve 
thought  about  it  myself;  but  Billy  is 
going  to  hell.  What  about  Billy  ? "  John 
insisted. 

"  Oh,  as  for  that  —  to  pass  from  the 
sublime  to  Billy  —  he  simply  won't ;  that 
is  to  say,  he  won't  here,  at  Harvard." 


218  HARVARD    EPISODES 

There  was  a  gleam  of  hope  in  John's  eyes. 

"  Why  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Because  he  '11  get  kicked  out,"  said 
Haydock. 

"  Fire  Billy  ?  "     John  looked  terrified. 

"  That 's  what  they  '11  do.  And  why 
not  ? "  the  senior  went  on  heartlessly. 
"  From  what  you  say,  he  does  n't  seem 
to  be  quite  ready  for  the  place,  as  yet ; 
so  put  him  out." 

"  But  he  is  n't  bad,  really  bad." 

"  No,  certainly  not ;  merely  a  damn 
fool ;  when  he  gets  over  being  one,  let 
him  come  back.  The  college  understands 
that  sort  of  thing  much  better  than  you  or 
I  do.  It's  not  only  highly  intelligent, 
but  extremely  benevolent.  I  'm  sorry 
about  Billy." 

"  Won't  you  talk  to  him  —  warn  him 
in  some  way ;  he  '11  listen  to  you,"  said 
John,  earnestly. 

"  I  should  be  charmed,"  answered  the 
other,  although  he  appreciated  the  deli 
cacy  of  the  situation,  and  felt  that  his 
words  would  fall  on  deaf  ears. 

It  was  later  than  John's  accustomed 
hour  for  going  to  bed,  when  he  left  Hay- 
dock's  room  that  night.  This  was  his 


BUTTERFLIES  219 

only  reason  for  hurrying  over  to  Mat 
thews,  as  he  did,  when  he  finally  said 
good-night  to  the  senior.  At  the  end  ot 
the  little  corridor  near  John's  door  a 
man  who  looked  like  a  messenger  of 
some  kind  stood  peering  out  of  the  win 
dow  at  the  lights  in  the  Square.  He  must 
have  been  standing  there  a  long  time, 
—  long  enough  to  become  convinced  that 
the  continual  sound  of  footsteps  in  the 
entry  did  not  necessarily  announce  the 
person  for  whom  he  was  waiting,  —  for 
he  turned  to  John  only  when  he  heard 
the  jingle  of  his  keys. 

"  Rice?  "  he  drawled,  «  J.  D.  Rice  ?  " 
He  gave  John  a  note,  and  sauntered  back 
to  the  window.  The  communication  was 
from  Billy.  John  read  it  there  in  the 
corridor  under  the  gas  jet :  — 

DEAR  JOHNNY,  —  Please,  as  quickly  as  pos 
sible,  procure  all  the  money  you  can  lay  your 
hands  on  —  two  hundred  dollars  at  the  very 
least  —  and  come  bail  me  out.  I  have  been 
arrested  and  compelled  to  languish  among  hos 
tile  strangers.  The  man  with  this  note  will 
guide  you  to  the  scene  of  my  incarceration. 
Please  hurry,  because  I  wish  to  go  home. 

BILLY, 

P.  S.     For  Heaven's  sake  get  a  move  on. 


220  HARVARD    EPISODES 

For  a  moment  this  document  conveyed 
but  little  to  John.  He  was  obliged  to 
read  it  a  second  time,  and  even  then  he 
stared  appealingly  at  the  messenger,  who 
had  turned  and  was  eyeing  him  with  feeble 
interest. 

"  They  got  pinched,  didn't  they  ?  "  said 
the  man,  sadly. 

"  But  what  did  he  do  ?  What 's  hap 
pened  ?  "  John  demanded.  He  was  dazed ; 
nothing  he  had  ever  seen  or  done  in  his 
life  had  prepared  him  for  this. 

"  Why,  they  got  run  in,"  explained  the 
man. 

"  Here  —  you  wait  for  me  here."  The 
only  thing  John  could  think  of  just  then 
was  Haydock.  "  Or  no  —  come  into  my 
room  ;  "  he  unlocked  the  door  and  turned 
up  the  gas.  "  Be  sure  to  wait,"  he  com 
manded,  as  he  rushed  out. 

Claverly  was  locked  for  the  night ;  John 
remembered  this  after  rattling  in  vain  at 
the  three  doors.  Then  he  called  under 
Haydock's  window.  The  senior  answered 
from  the  square  of  yellow  light  above. 
He  was  on  the  point  of  going  out  any 
how,  he  said,  and  would  join  John  below. 
"  Billy  's  arrested  !  he 's  in  jail  !  What  '11 


BUTTERFLIES  221 

I  do  ?  "  John  gasped  breathlessly.  He 
thrust  the  note  at  Haydock.  "  Read  it." 

Haydock  struck  a  match  in  the  shelter 
of  a  bay  window  and  read. 

"  Why,  the  only  thing  to  do  is  to  bail 
him  out,"  he  laughed.  "  It 's  horrid,  not 
to  say  disgusting,  to  have  to  stay  all  night 
in  a  jail.  How  much  money  have  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  five  dollars,  I  think," 
answered  John.  The  darkness  covered 
his  astonishment  at  Haydock's  calmness 
under  the  circumstances. 

"  I  have  thirty  or  forty  myself,  and  I  '11 
evolve  the  rest  somewhere." 

"  Do  you  think  you  can  ?  "  To  John 
the  idea  was  incredible. 

cc  Oh,  heavens  yes  !  That 's  the  trouble 
with  Cambridge ;  you  can  always  borrow 
any  amount  at  any  hour.  It  makes  every 
place  else  seem  sordid  and  worldly.  Is 
the  c  guide '  in  your  room?  I'll  meet 
you  there  in  twenty  minutes."  He  strolled 
away  whistling.  John  hurried  back  to 
Matthews  faster  than  before. 

For  ever  so  long  that  night  was  a  hide 
ous  memory  to  Billy's  room-mate.  He 
and  Haydock  and  the  man  —  a  sad,  silent 
person  whom  Haydock  courteously  tried 


222  HARVARD    EPISODES 

to  engage  in  conversation  from  time  to 
time  —  spent  hours  in  chilly  suburban 
street-cars  and  bleak  waiting  stations. 
Haydock  ignored  the  topic  that  to  John 
was  of  such  overwhelming  and  painful  in 
terest  ;  it  was  as  if  he  had  disposed  of  the 
entire  subject  earlier  in  the  evening  when 
he  had  uttered  his  prophecy  :  "  Because 
he'll  get  kicked  out."  Grey  January 
dawn  streaked  the  sky  when  the  trio,  after 
finding  Billy  and  Dilford  Bancroft  chat 
ting  pleasantly  with  the  watchmen  in  the 
police  station,  managed  to  rout  up  the 
gentleman  whose  function  it  seemed  to 
be  to  determine  the  amount  of  a  criminal's 
bail,  —  he  lived  several  miles  away,  —  get 
a  cab,  and  jog  back  to  Cambridge.  Billy 
talked  most  of  the  way,  in  spite  of  the 
silence  with  which  John  received  his  re 
flections,  and  Haydock's  polite  but  unen- 
thusiastic  attention.  Dilford  covered  his 
head  with  the  lap-robe  at  intervals,  and 
had  hysterics ;  but  no  one  noticed  him  at 
all,  except  Billy,  who  occasionally  joined 
him  in  these  complex  emotions. 

"  It  was  the  surprise  —  the  awful  sur 
prise  of  it  that  killed  me  dead,"  Billy 
would  giggle.  "  I  was  on  the  box-seat 


BUTTERFLIES  223 

driving,  you  know,  —  lickety-split,  to  beat 
the  band,  with  Harry  Hollis  beside  me, 
—  he  fell  off  when  we  went  over  the  car 
tracks.  I  'd  like  to  know  if  he  was  hurt ; 
anyhow,  the  car  did  n't  run  over  him,  be 
cause  I  looked  back  and  it  never  stopped. 
Had  Jimmy  fallen  out  then  ?  "  he  appealed 
to  Dilford,  whose  reply  was  smothered  at 
its  birth.  "  Then  we  raced  the  car  until 
the  horses  —  oh,  they  were  corkers  !  —  be- 

fan  to  run  away.  I  could  n't  hold  them, 
tried,  upon  my  soul,  I  tried  !  but  I  was 
laughing  so  that  my  wrists  were  all  sort 
of  tickly  on  the  inside,  —  you  know  how 
they  do, — and  I  couldn't  close  my  rin 
gers  very  tight  over  the  reins  ;  they  just 
flapped  around  in  the  breeze  any  old  way. 
So  when  the  policeman  ran  out  and  yelled 
and  waved,  what  on  earth  could  I  do  ? 
What  could  I  do  ?  We  simply  crashed 
past  him  like  a  chariot  race.  I  looked 
back  again  and  could  n't  even  see  the 
creature  —  only  Dilly  on  the  floor,  white 
as  a  sheet,  holding  on  with  everything 
he  had.  Oh,  it  was  terrible !  per 
fectly  terrible  !  I  was  glad  we  'd  bitched 
the  policeman,  though  ;  only  we  did  n't ! 
That  was  the  surprise.  My  dear,  what 


224  HARVARD    EPISODES 

do  you  suppose  that  man  —  that  devil  — 
did  ?  He  telephoned  —  telephoned  —  to 
the  next  police  station,  and  when  we 
got  there  they  received  us.  Policemen  ? 
There  were  platoons  of  them,  —  as  far  as 
the  eye  could  reach  in  every  direction. 
And  they  had  fish-nets  and  lassoes  and  the 
most  fearful-looking  clubs  ;  and  one  of  the 
horses  fell  down,  and  everybody  sat  on  the 
poor  thing's  head, —  people  always  rush 
and  do  that  when  a  horse  falls  down.  I 
wonder  why  ?  " 

No  one  ventured  a  theory,  and  William 
continued :  — 

"  Well,  they  took  us  inside,  and  asked 
the  most  intimate  impertinent  kind  of 
questions.  I  gave  my  own  name,  but 
Dilly  did  n't ;  he  had  one  all  ready  that 
went  with  the  initials  on  his  underclothes, 
so  it  would  n't  be  a  give-away  even  if  they 
had  the  nerve  to  go  too  far.  What  was 
it,  Dilly  ?  I  've  forgotten.  He  asked  me 
what  my  occupation  was,  and  I  did  n't 
exactly  like  to  tell  him  I  was  a  student." 

"  Of  course  not,"  assented  Haydock, 
drily. 

"  So  I  merely  said  c  rentier?  ' 

Haydock  groaned  softly  in  his  corner. 


BUTTERFLIES  225 

"  He  just  looked  at  me,  —  the  great  big 
thing !  I  don't  think  he  'd  ever  been 
abroad.  Oh,  and  before  I  forget  it,  we 
have  to  be  in  court  at  nine  o'clock.  Now 
don't  go  and  oversleep  yourself,  John,  the 
way  you  do  sometimes ;  because  I  must 
get  up  whether  I  want  to  or  not,  I  sup 
pose.  Where  was  I?  Oh,  yes;  after 
he  'd  asked  all  the  questions  he  could 
think  of,  I  wrote  the  note,  and  we  waited 
a  deuce  of  a  while.  But  it  was  n't  so  bad 
after  that,  after  the  ice  was  broken.  Then 
you  both  came  —  I  was  so  relieved  —  and 
here  we  are  c just  off  the  yacht ! '  " 

Billy  thought  it  hardly  worth  while  to 
go  to  bed  when  the  cab  at  length  reached 
the  Square.  He  would  have  preferred  to 
utilise  the  short  time  that  remained  before 
nine  o'clock  in  talking  over  his  little  jaunt 
with  Dilford.  He  wanted  to  "shake" 
John  and  Haydock,  and  spend  a  pleasant 
hour  or  two  at  Mr.  Vosler's  hotel  in  town, 
before  meeting  his  judge.  But  the  plan 
was  n't  one  that  he  could  innocently  sug 
gest  ;  and  as  the  senior  stayed  with  them 
until  they  said  good-night  to  him  at  the 
entry  of  Matthews,  he  could  n't  very  well 
leave  John  without  a  word,  as  he  would 
15 


226  HARVARD    EPISODES 

have  done,  had  they  been  alone.  Billy 
tumbled  into  bed  as  soon  as  he  got  up 
stairs,  and  giggled  himself  to  sleep,  after 
calling  into  John's  room, — 

"  You  did  see  the  sunrise,  did  n't  you, 
old  man  ?  " 

John  lay  awake  until  it  was  time  to 
rouse  Billy  for  his  trial.  At  nine  that 
morning  the  two  criminals  rolled  up  to 
the  court-room,  smoking  cigarettes  on  the 
back  seat  of  a  victoria.  They  pleaded 
guilty  to  something,  —  neither  of  them 
quite  knew  what,  —  listened  with  downcast 
eyes  to  a  bit  of  fatherly  sarcasm,  and 
drove  away  again  —  forty  dollars  poorer 
than  when  they  arrived.  That  was  in 
January. 

The  midyear  examinations  have  an  un 
pleasant  habit  of  disturbing  the  even  aca 
demic  tenor  early  in  February,  as  their 
name  suggests.  They  announce  them 
selves,  in  various  prominent  places,  at 
first,  like  clouds  no  bigger  than  a  man's 
hand.  The  wary  and  the  wise  repair  to 
their  caves,  and  remain  there,  off  and  on, 
for  days  and  days  and  days.  When  they 
finally  emerge,  care-worn  but  preserved 
after  the  deluge,  they  find  that  many 


BUTTERFLIES  227 

loved  ones  are  missing.  John  was  among 
the  first  to  retire  to  high  and  inaccessible 
altitudes.  He  pinned  the  "Crimson's" 
supplementary  schedule  of  examinations 
and  dates  to  his  door.  After  deliberating 
long  as  to  where  a  similar  reminder  would 
most  often  meet  the  eyes  of  his  room-mate, 
he  carefully  marked  the  impending  tor 
tures  with  ominous  crosses  and  tacked  the 
list  to  the  frame  of  Billy's  mirror.  He 
might  with  just  as  much  effect — to  say 
nothing  of  the  economy  of  anguish  — 
have  thrown  the  thing  into  the  fire. 

"  What  the  devil  does  this  fly-paper 
think  it 's  doing  on  my  looking-glass  ?  " 
Billy  had  remarked  on  finding  the  evi 
dence  of  John's  thoughtfulness.  "  Do 
you  realise  that  you  have  utterly  obliter 
ated  Sarah  Bernhardt  and  Delia  Fox?  I 
think  you  must  be  crazy."  He  ripped 
off  the  paper,  and  let  it  flutter  to  the  floor. 
John's  patience  was  inexhaustible,  but  his 
ingenuity  had  well  defined  limits  ;  he  was 
aware,  with  something  like  panic,  that  he 
had  reached  them.  For  weeks,  he  had 
exercised  what  art  he  had  at  command,  in 
trying  to  seduce  Billy  into  opening  a 
book.  He  had  learned  that  a  declaration 


228  HARVARD    EPISODES 

of  his  personal  ideas  in  regard  to  the  ex 
aminations  —  or  any  work  he  undertook 

—  was  worse  than  ineffectual  as  far  as  his 
room-mate   went.      It  not  only   failed   to 
quicken  in  Billy  the  sense  —  prevalent  at 
the    midyears  —  of     approaching     catas 
trophe,  but  drove  him  away  to  somebody's 
else  room,  or  perhaps  to  town.     So,  much 
to  his  own  distaste,  John  had  essayed  the 
role  of  the  serio-comic.     He  made  a  pre 
tence  —  with    reservations  —  of    adopting 
Billy's   point    of  view ;    the    reservations 
were  meant  to   bring    about    the    desired 
end.      He  would   chat   with  Billy  of  the 
more    serious     aspects     of    college  —  the 
courses  and  instructors  and  examinations 

—  in  an   attempt   at    something  like    the 
same  breezy  tone  in  which  the  boy  him 
self   touched    on    these    subjects.     When 
Billy,  for  instance,  would  sit  up  in  bed  in 
the  morning  and  yawn  and  shrug  and  an 
nounce    that   he    simply  could  n't  go    all 
the  way  over  to  Sever  Hall  to  sit  through 
Professor   So-and-so's    lecture  —  that  the 
man  was  ninety-five  years  old  if  he  was 
a  day,  and  slobbered,  John   would  laugh 
and  say, — 

"  Yes,  is  n't  he  deadly  ?     I  hardly  ever 


BUTTERFLIES  229 

listen  to  him.  Lots  of  people  live  too 
long.  But  I  suppose  we  must  go  and 
endure  it ;  we  're  in  the  course,  and  we  '11 
have  to  worry  through  it  somehow." 

At  first  Billy  was  rather  shocked.  The 
abrupt  change  of  manner  was  so  hope 
lessly  out  of  character  ;  he  would  n't  have 
been  more  astounded  had  he  heard  un 
seemly  levity  issuing  from  the  pulpit  at 
S.  Timothy's.  But  he  divined  almost  at 
once  —  who  would  n't  have  ?  —  that  John's 
responsibility  for  other  people's  affairs, 
though  exhibited  in  a  fashion  positively 
weird,  did  not  diminish ;  and  Billy  fre 
quented  86  Matthews  less  than  ever. 
John  knew  that  he  himself  did  n't  possess 
the  qualities  that  make  a  man  an  inspira 
tion,  but  he  had  been  brought  up  at  home 
and  at  school  to  believe  that  he  was  some 
thing  of  an  influence;  that  he  was  "just 
the  sort  of  man  a  fellow  like  Billy  needs." 
Apart  from  the  genuine  sorrow  he  would 
feel  at  what  the  official  college  gracefully 
terms  the  "  separation "  of  Billy  from 
the  University,  it  was  disconcerting  to 
John  to  find  out  that  as  a  kindly  light 
he  had  proved  uncommonly  dim.  In 
despair  and  disappointment,  he  im- 


230  HARVARD    EPISODES 

pressed  Hay  dock  into  the  labour  of 
salvation. 

Haydock  was  very  amiable  about  the 
whole  affair.  He  had,  whenever  he  was 
with  Billy,  the  half  amused  affection  an 
older  fellow  often  feels  for  anything  so 
young  and  pretty  and  inconsequent.  He 
liked  the  boy's  mother  too,  although  the 
lady's  guilelessness  had  always  been  a  bar 
to  conversation  of  other  than  a  purely 
theoretical  value.  So,  in  response  to 
John's  eleventh-hour  prayers,  he  did  what 
he  could  in  spite  of  more  immediate  inter 
ests.  He  picked  his  way,  one  evening, 
through  the  darkness  and  the  mud,  and 
among  the  disabled  butcher-waggons,  by 
the  black  alley  that  leads  to  the  Polo 
Club,  —  once  upon  a  time  he  too  had  be 
longed  to  that  genial  institution,  —  and 
beguiled  Billy  and  Dilford  Bancroft  to 
his  room.  He  gave  them  beer,  and  things 
to  smoke,  and  then  wondered  how,  with 
two  such  elusive,  mercurial  creatures  flit 
ting  about,  he  could  ever  begin  to  "  talk 
shop."  Strangely  enough  Billy  himself 
provided  the  opportunity. 

"  Play  something,  Dilly,"  he  said,  open 
ing  Hay  dock's  piano.  Haydock  glanced 


BUTTERFLIES  231 

at  the  clock  on  the  mantelpiece,  but  it  was 
not  yet  nine  ;  the  proctor  couldn't  object, 
no  matter  how  excruciating  Dilly' s  per 
formance  might  be. 

cc  Dilly,  you  know,  can  bang  the  box  in 
a  way  that  would  make  you  throw  stones 
at  your  grandmother,"  explained  Billy. 

"  I  'm  extremely  fond  of  my  grand 
mother,"  suggested  Haydock. 

"What  do  you  want?"  asked  Dilly, 
seating  himself. 

"  What  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  Oh,  any  old  thing." 

Haydock  was  on  the  point  of  discreetly 
asking  for  a  Sousa  march,  when  Dilford 
plunged  abruptly  into  the  middle  of  a 
sonata,  and  played  it  through  with  aston 
ishing  brilliancy. 

"  I  do  play  well,  don't  I  ?  "  he  admitted, 
when  he  had  finished.  "  It  always  sur 
prises  me  ;  just  think  what  I  could  do  if 
I  really  studied  —  hard,  I  mean,"  he  added 
lightly. 

"  Good  heavens  !  man,"  exclaimed  Hay- 
dock,  "  are  n't  you  going  to  take  highest 
honours  in  music  ?  Why,  you  can  do 
anything ! "  Haydock  considered  his  own 
little  thumpings  important  only  in  so  far 


232  HARVARD    EPISODES 

as  they  enabled  him  to  understand  a  tal 
ent  like  Bancroft's. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  answered  Dilford, 
with  indifference.  "  My  father  wants  me 
to  go  to  work ;  I  don't  suppose  I  '11  be 
here  long." 

"  Won't  you,  really  ?  I  knew  that 
Billy  wasn't  going  to  stay;  but  I  had  an 
idea  you  would."  Haydock  alluded  to 
Billy's  probable  departure  with  the  emo 
tion  he  would  have  displayed  had  he  been 
predicting  a  change  in  the  weather. 

Billy  pricked  up  his  ears  and  his  eye 
brows  at  once.  "  What  makes  you  say 
that  ? "  he  demanded  quickly.  Even 
Dilford  dropped  his  customary  listlessness, 
and  looked  interested. 

"  Why  —  I  thought  it  was  more  or  less 
settled."  The  senior  turned  from  one  to 
the  other  in  slow  surprise,  "  If  I  've  said 
anything  I  ought  not  to  have  —  given 
things  away,  I  mean  —  I'm  awfully  sorry. 
But  perhaps  they  were  mistaken."  Billy's 
face,  across  which  flitted  a  shade  of  anxi 
ety,  told  him  that  he  was  perfectly  safe  in 
making  a  "  bluff"  at  changing  the  subject. 

cc  No,  no  ! "  Billy  jerked  out,  impa 
tiently  ;  "  go  on  !  who  are  you  talking 


BUTTERFLIES  233 

about  ?  You  Ve  heard  something  impor 
tant,"  something  that  didn't  emanate 
from  John,  he  was  thinking.  "  What  did 
they  say  ?  I  insist  on  knowing." 

"It  really  wasn't  much;  merely  that 
one  or  two  of  the  instructors  —  I  know 
some  of  the  younger  ones  rather  well  — 
seemed  to  think  that  you  would  n't  —  that 
in  fact  you  could  n't  be  with  us  after  the 
midyears.  That's  all.  I  thought  you 
knew." 

"You're  bitched  all  right,  all  right/' 
laughed  Bancroft. 

"  They  said  that,  did  they  ?  "  Billy  let 
fall  these  words  portentously  ;  it  was  as 
if  he  were  on  the  point  of  framing  a  great 
resolution. 

"That's  precisely  what  they  said." 

"  Well,  then  —  by  heaven  !  I  '11  fool 
them."  He  really  meant  it. 

"  Oh,  I  wish  you  would !  It  would 
be  easy  after  all.  There 's  time  yet.  I  '11 
help  you  with  your  English  —  both  courses 
—  and  your  Latin.  You're  all  right  in 
French,  of  course,  and  the  History  won't 
be  so  terrible.  Is  it  a  go?"  Haydock 
held  out  his  hand. 

"  I  '11  fool  them,"   repeated   Billy,  sol- 


234  HARVARD    EPISODES 

emnly.  He  gravely  let  his  long,  brown 
fingers  rest  in  Haydock's  palm.  And 
Haydock  had  one  of  those  moments  of 
quiet  exultation  that  are  the  perquisites  of 
the  intelligent. 

The  next  morning  Billy  and  Dilly  dis 
appeared  from  Cambridge,  and  were  nei 
ther  seen  nor  heard  of  for  five  days.  On 
the  afternoon  of  the  fourth  day  John, 
looking  positively  thin,  turned  up  in  Hay- 
dock's  room. 

"  Get  up  a  search  party  and  explore 
darkest  Boston,"  advised  the  senior,  drum 
ming  on  the  desk  with  his  pencil. 

"  Oh,  I  did  !  "  John's  tone  was  with 
out  hope.  "  Harry  Hollis  and  Jimmy 
Fenton  took  me  all  over — to  the  most 
awful  hotels  and  places.  They  seemed  to 
know  Billy  at  all  of  them  ;  but  he  was  n't 
there.  I  never  had  such  a  night.  I  don't 
know  what  to  do." 

"  How  much  money  did  he  have  ?  " 
Haydock  continued  to  drum  thoughtfully. 

"Twenty  dollars.  I'm  sure,  because 
we  both  put  our  allowances  in  the  bank 
that  morning.  Billy  kept  twenty." 

Now  Haydock,  who  had  met  a  great 
number  of  Billys  and  Dillys  in  his  short 


BUTTERFLIES  235 

life,  knew  that  this  particular  Billy  was  not 
living  anywhere  on  the  modest  sum  of  five 
dollars  a  day.  So,  after  a  little  more  drum 
ming,  he  said, — 

"  Run  over  to  the  Charles  River  Bank, 
and  ask  them  in  just  what  metropolis  of 
the  United  States  or  Europe,  William  is 
signing  cheques  at  the  present  moment." 

When  John  returned,  breathless,  a  few 
minutes  later,  he  threw  himself  into  a 
chair,  and  groaned,  — 

"  They  're  in  Providence." 

Haydock  gave  up  a  dinner  at  his  club 
that  night,  and  a  dance  in  town.  He 
went,  instead,  to  Providence.  Late  the 
next  evening  he  deposited  Billy  —  too 
much  of  a  wreck  to  be  either  resentful  or 
flippant  —  in  86  Matthews.  The  next 
day  the  Office  put  Billy  cc  on  probation." 

And  the  midyears  were  coming. 

One  night,  after  the  examination  period 
was  well  under  way,  Haydock  went  up  to 
his  room  to  study.  Although  the  month 
was  February,  the  night  was  heavy  and 
depressing.  The  senior  had  much  to 
accomplish  before  morning.  He  was 
nervous  —  almost  irritable.  His  curtains 
floated  like  ghostly,  beckoning  sleeves  in 


236  HARVARD    EPISODES 

and  out  of  the  open  windows,  until  he 
jumped  up  and  tied  them  viciously  into 
hard  knots.  His  student  lamp  radiated 
the  heat  of  hell  and  the  unnumbered  suns  ; 
he  found  himself  waiting,  in  nervous  sus 
pense,  for  the  periodic  bubbling  of  its 
rudimentary  bowels.  The  sound  diverted 
his  attention  from  his  book,  and  wasted 
the  limited  time  left  him  in  which  to  com 
mit  to  memory  several  hundred  lines  of 
Paradise  Lost.  The  verse,  — 

"  And  sweet  reluctant  amourous  delay," 

—  he  came  across  it  in  the  feverish 
scramble  of  learning  five  lines  a  minute  by 
the  watch,  —  suddenly  put  the  situation  in 
a  light  in  which  he  had  not  until  then  been 
able  to  see  it.  He  leaned  back  in  his 
chair  and  laughed  aloud.  And  as  he 
laughed,  he  heard  a  light  footstep  in  the 
hall,  then  a  knock  on  his  door. 

"  I  heard  you  laughing  and  knew  you 
could  n't  be  working,  so  I  just  knocked," 
said  Dilford  Bancroft,  innocently  ignoring 
the  very  unusual  fact  that  Hay  dock  had 
on  neither  coat  nor  waistcoat,  that  a 
shaded  student  lamp  was  the  only  light  in 
the  room,  and  that  several  open  books 


BUTTERFLIES  237 

and  some  scattered  notes  lay  on  the 
table.  "What's  the  joke?"  he  asked. 
Then  without  waiting  for  an  answer, 
"Hasn't  Billy  come  yet?" 

"  Is  Billy  coming  ?  "  said  Haydock, 
with  an  interest  that  sprang  solely  from 
alarm. 

"  Oh,  yes  —  he  '11  be  here,"  answered 
Dilly,  reassuring  any  foolish  doubts  on 
that  question.  He  had  opened  the  piano 
and  was  striking  careful  discords  in  the 
bass,  "  I  was  sure  you  were  talking  to 
him  when  I  came  in ;  he  said  he  'd  bring 
round  his  system." 

"  His  what  ?  " 

"  Why,  his  system  —  the  c  Rhyming 
Road,'  he  calls  it.  You  're  going  to  give 
us  a  seminar,  you  know  —  the  exam 
comes  to-morrow ;  and  he 's  going  to 
bring  round  his  notes  and  the  c  Rhyming 
Road '  to  help  out." 

Haydock  was  hearing  of  this  little 
arrangement  for  the  first  time.  He 
had  n't  seen  Billy  since  the  return  from 
Providence. 

"  You  did  n't  tell  me  you  were  com 
ing,"  he  began  ;  "  I  have  no  end  of  work 
myself  and  —  " 


238  HARVARD    EPISODES 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know,"  broke  in  Dilly,  a 
trifle  impatiently,  without  turning  from 
the  piano ;  "  you  see  we  never  thought 
about  it  ourselves  until  this  afternoon, 
when  we  found  out  that  the  exam  comes 
to-morrow.  We  were  sure  you  'd  do  it," 
he  wheeled  slowly  about  until  he  faced 
Haydock ;  "  because  neither  of  us  know 
anything,  and  if  you  don't  —  we'll  fail." 

Haydock  met  this  plaint  with  the  wor 
ried  silence  of  one  who  dimly  foresees  his 
own  end.  Dilly  could  n't  have*  made  a 
more  persuasive  appeal  if  he  had  tried. 
Its  strength  lay  in  the  fact  that  Dilly 
had  n't  tried ;  he  had  simply  laid  bare, 
with  an  apparently  childlike  trust  in  Hay- 
dock's  wisdom,  his  own  and  Billy's  hope 
less  inconsequence.  It  was  rather  late  in 
the  day  to  discuss  the  matter. 

"  We  were  counting  on  you,"  Dilly 
sighed,  and  looked  at  the  floor.  He  ven 
tured  this  statement  in  the  hope  of  keep 
ing  the  subject  alive ;  somehow  it  had 
seemed  to  languish. 

"  I  confess  I  don't  understand  you 
two,"  Haydock  burst  out.  Every  one  who 
had  the  pleasure  of  knowing  Billy  and 
Dilly  took  refuge  in  this  exclamation  at 


BUTTERFLIES  239 

one  time  or  another.  cc  How  the  devil 
have  you  managed  to  hang  on  here  for 
four  months  ?  And  why  on  earth  did 
you  come  to  college  at  all  ? "  he  shook 
the  boy  by  the  shoulders. 

Billy's  apologia  might  have  been  inter 
esting.  He  had  on  occasions  attempted 

—  by  request  —  to  defend  the  fact  of  his 
being  at  Harvard ;   but  as  he  had  always 
prefaced  his  few  remarks  with,  "  To  begin 
with,  I  am  of  a  taciturn  disposition,"  and 
as  no  one  was  quite  willing  to  believe  that 
he   had    a    glimmer    of  the    meaning    of 
"  taciturn,"  he  had  never  been  allowed  to 
proceed   from  that   point.     To-night   the 
appearance    of  Billy    with   an    armful    of 
note-books  made  explanation  impossible. 

"  Oh,  I  'm  so  glad  you  're  not  work 
ing,"  said  Billy,  sweetly,  all  the  note-books 

—  there   were   six  of  them  —  fell  to   the 
floor    when   he  sat    down ;    "  because    we 
could  n't  have  disturbed  you,  and  I  don't 
know  what  we'd  have  done  —  Dilford's 
told  you  ?  " 

"Yes,  Dilford  has  told  me,"  answered 
Haydock.  He  knew  that  then  was  the 
time  to  escort  these  young  gentlemen  to 
the  hall,  and  lock  the  door  in  their  faces- 


240  HARVARD    EPISODES 

But  he  allowed  it  to  slip  by,  and  it  never 
returned. 

"  Well,  then  —  I  don't  see  why  we 
shouldn't  dash  right  along.  What  do 
you  think  ?  "  Billy  looked  from  Haydock 
to  Dilford  and  back  again. 

"  What  is  it  you  want —  and  what  are 
all  those  books  doing  ?  "  Haydock  asked 
wearily. 

"  Oh,  these  ?  "  Billy  allowed  his  feet  to 
ramble  among  the  volumes  on  the  floor. 
"Oh,  they're  just  notes — History  and 
French  and  things  ;  there  were  no  matches 
in  my  room,  and  I  was  in  a  hurry,  so  I  had 
to  bring  them  all.  The  Literature  ones 
are  there  too  ;  but  they  're  rather  —  rather 

—  what    shall    I    say?"       He    refrained 
delicately  from  saying  what  was  the  simple 
truth,  —  that  his  notes  on  all  subjects  were 
an   illegible    muddle,   beginning    nowhere 

—  arriving    nowhere.     "Things  come  to 
me  at  such   odd  times,"  he  went  on,  "  I 
just  jot  them  down.     Anyhow  you  won't 
need  notes  ;  we  merely  want  you  to  give 
us  some  idea  to  go  by,"  he  fluttered  his 
slender  hand  comprehensively,  "  an  idea 
of  literature." 

"  Yes,"    put   in    Dilly,    stirred  by  the 


BUTTERFLIES  241 

practical  common  sense  of  the  sugges 
tion,  "  the  examination,  I  think,  is  about 
literature." 

"You  think — good  God,  child,  don't 
you  know  ?  "  Haydock  mopped  his  fore 
head  on  the  back  of  his  arm,  and  stared  at 
the  two  incredulously. 

"Oh,  he'll  catch  on  all  right,"  said 
Billy,  easily.  « You  see  the  course  only 
came  once  a  week,  and  Darnell  lectures 
so  fast  that,  sitting  away  in  the  back  of 
the  room  as  we  do  —  " 

"You  prefer,  on  the  whole,  to  stay 
away  entirely,  or  make  the  hour  pass  as 
rapidly  as  possible.  Yes,  yes,  I  under 
stand,"  interrupted  Haydock,  drily.  He 
picked^  up  one  of  Billy's  books  marked 
''English  28,"  and  opened  it  at  random, 
to  a  page  devoted  to  the  diagrams  and 
scores  of  the  "  Harvard  University  Tit 
Tat  Too  and  Cent  Matching  Association. 
Originators  and  Sole  Proprietors,  Wil 
liam  Prescott  Ware  and  Dilford  Bancroft. 
Honorary  member :  President  Eliot."  On 
the  page  following  was  a  fragmentary  list 
of  the  writers  whose  lives  and  achievements 
had  been  taken  up  in  the  course.  After 
the  name  of  Jane  Austen,  came  the  an- 

16 


242  HARVARD    EPISODES 

nouncement,  in  parentheses,  that  "  this 
woman  was  a  man."  The  startling  bit 
of  literary  gossip  was  annotated  by :  "  I 
was  mistaken  —  it  was  George  Eliot  who 
was  a  woman." 

"  That  almost  flunked  me  at  the 
hour  exam,"  explained  Billy,  diffidently. 
"  They  're  so  fussy  about  things  here." 
He  was  looking  over  Haydock's  shoulder. 
"  It  would  have,  I  think,  if  I  had  n't 
thrown  a  new  light  on  the  temperament 
of  Swift." 

"  I  '11  warrant  you  did,"  said  Haydock. 
"  What  on  earth  is  this  ?  "  The  list  was 
followed  by  page  after  page  of  scrappy- 
looking  verse. 

"  Oh,  that 's  the  Rhyming  Road,"  ex 
claimed  Billy,  not  without  pride.  "  It 
sums  everything  up  and  helps  the  mem 
ory.  See  now  —  I  never  can  forget  about 
that  old  Eliot  woman  as  long  as  I  live." 
Haydock  followed  Billy's  guiding  finger, 
and  read  a  stanza  that  began  :  — 

"  Oh,  heavens,  oh,  heavens, 
Miss  Mary  Ann  Evans, 
Why  did  you  change  your  name  ? 
But  I  'm  on  to  you,  Mary, 
You  wary  old  fairy  —  " 


BUTTERFLIES  243 

"And  this  one  on  Matthew  Arnold," 
continued  Billy,  "  gives  the  whole  man 
away  at  once  —  " 

ff  Matthew  Arnold —  he  's  all  right, 
Full  of  sweetness,  full  of  light." 

"And  Richardson  —  " 

"  '  Pamela,  Pamela,  what  have  you  done  ?  * 

'  I  've  been   shooting  the  chutes  with   Sir   Charles 
Grandison.'  " 

"  Do  you  see  ?  It  goes  on  like  that, 
only  I  have  n't  had  time  yet  to  make  the 
thing  complete.  Now  let  's  begin  ;  it 's 
late." 

Haydock  closed  the  book  thoughtfully 
and  went  over  to  the  window.  He  stood 
a  moment  looking  out  at  the  thick  fog, 
and  wondering  what  he  should  do.  He 
had  n't  the  slightest  intention  any  longer 
of  spending  the  rest  of  the  night  in  a 
futile  effort  to  scrape  Billy  through  an 
examination.  The  child  had  already  cut 
two,  and  failed  in  one,  John  had  said. 
But  the  senior  was  in  doubt  as  to  whether 
his  concern  in  the  mess  young  Ware  had 
made  of  his  first  few  months  of  college, 


244  HARVARD    EPISODES 

ought  to  end  there,  with  a  bland  cc  good 
night/'  or  whether  he  ought  to  see  the 
thmg  out,  in  —  say,  the  manner  in  which 
he  would  engineer  the  calamity,  had  Billy 
happened  to  be  his  young  brother.  A 
senior  feels  toward  a  freshman,  older  than 
he  will  ever  feel  toward  anything  again  — 
older,  probably,  than  he  will  feel  even 
when  called  on  to  give  advice  to  his  own 
offspring.  Haydock  realised  so  well  what 
was  going  to  happen  to  Billy  —  Billy, 
whose  progress  in  college  from  the  first, 
had  been  the  progress  of  a  flimsy  butterfly 
in  a  stiff  breeze.  He  knew  to  an  inch  the 
quantity  of  perfectly  necessary  but  dis 
tressing  red  tape  that  would  have  to  be 
measured  before  Mrs.  Ware  and  the  col 
lege  Office  could  come  to  anything  like  a 
common  understanding.  And  even  then 
Mrs.  Ware  would  n't  understand  much  of 
anything.  It  always  seemed  to  Haydock 
that  men  and  women  in  becoming  parents 
somehow  or  other  managed  to  forfeit  a 
great  deal  of  intelligence.  He  intended 
some  day  to  ask  a  psychologist  with 
children,  if  this  was  a  provision  or  a  per 
version  of  nature.  Mrs.  Ware  was  the 
sort  of  woman  who  would  take  an  hour 


BUTTERFLIES  245 

and  a  half  to  inform  the  Dean  that  Wil 
liam  was  a  "  good  boy  at  heart,"  —  that 
his  cheerfulness  had  always  been  "  a  ray 
of  sunshine  "  in  her  life  ;  the  Dean,  all  the 
while,  knowing  that  the  twenty-five  young 
men  he  had  summoned  to  appear  before 
him  that  morning,  were  waiting  appre 
hensively  in  the  outer  office  to  "  have  it 
over  with."  Since  there  was  no  question 
in  Haydock's  mind  just  then  of  how  to 
keep  Billy  in  college,  he  asked  himself  if 
it  would  n't  be  less  painful  to  every  one 
concerned  to  get  him  out  with  decency 
and  despatch. 

"  It's  late,"  repeated  Dilly,  listlessly. 

"  Yes,  that 's  the  trouble,"  said  Hay- 
dock,  turning  away  from  the  window. 
He  said  it  kindly,  regretfully,  but  with  a 
seriousness  that  rather  alarmed  Dilford, 
and  could  not  be  ignored  by  Billy.  "  It 's 
too  late.  There  's  no  use  in  being  tire 
some  and  melo-dramatic  about  the  thing, 
but  that 's  the  simple  fact ;  you  've  come 
to  the  end  of  your  string,  and  you  Ve  got 
to  let  go  before  they  slap  your  hands  and 
take  it  away  from  you.  If  you  don't  know 
what  it  means,  —  probation,  and  cutting 
two  exams,  and  flunking  a  third  —  " 


246  HARVARD    EPISODES 

"  John  told  you  that,"  broke  in  Billy, 
angrily. 

"  And  flunking  again  to-morrow,  I  'm 
sorry."  He  was  sorry,  very,  very  sorry. 
"  Because  it  prolongs  the  agony  for  every 
body,  your  mother  in  particular." 

Dilford  was  sidling  about  the  room, 
nearing  the  door  by  furtive  stages.  When 
Haydock  glanced  up,  he  was  no  longer 
there. 

"  I  'm  the  last  person  in  the  world  to 
advise  running  away  as  long  as  there 's 
any  music  to  face.  But  there  is  n't  any 
more  for  you  just  now.  The  thing  is 
played  out,  and  you  simply  have  to  leave." 
Haydock  himself  did  n't  quite  know  what 
he  meant  by  this  tuneful  figure  of  speech  ; 
but  he  thought  it  sounded  rather  well,  and 
would  impress  Billy.  "  You  know  your 
self  that  a  smash  of  some  kind  is  coming  — 
you  've  known  it  for  weeks."  The  senior 
didn't  attempt  to  understand  the  mind  in 
which  a  keen  knowledge  of  approaching, 
but  easily  averted  doom  ran  in  a  never 
converging  parallel  with  an  insatiable  lust 
for  the  present.  He  merely  knew  that 
such  minds  could  be,  and  that  Billy's,  if 
left  unmolested,  was  one  of  them.  He 


BUTTERFLIES  247 

undertook  now  to  lead  these  lines  to  a 
point.  He  did  n't  say  very  much,  and  his 
remarks  were  n't  in  the  least  spiritual  ; 
as  a  matter  of  fact  they  were  decidedly 
worldly.  He  did  n't  remind  Billy  that 
his  wickedness  might  eventually  keep  him 
out  of  the  kingdom  of  Heaven,  but  told 
him,  —  which  is  of  far  more  importance  to 
a  Harvard  freshman  —  that  if  he  went  on 
making  an  ass  of  himself  he  would  ruin 
his  chances  for  the  "  Dickey."  Haydock 
played  some  variations  on  this  seemingly 
simple  theme,  threw  in  a  few  merciless 
truths  he  had  learned  from  John,  an  origi 
nal  reflection  or  two,  and  an  unanswerable 
prediction  of  a  general  and  depressing 
character. 

"  You  must  get  out  and  go  home,  and 
think  about  it,"  he  ended. 

Billy  had  probably  already  begun  to 
act  on  the  last  of  these  suggestions,  for  in 
a  minute  or  two  he  stuffed  his  head  into 
the  sofa-cushions  and  began  to  cry.  Hay- 
dock  returned  to  his  Milton,  and  learned 
several  pages  to  an  accompaniment  of 
smothered  sobs,  until  Billy  at  length  be 
came  quiet. 

"  Now  we  '11  go  down  and  have  a  cool 


248  HARVARD    EPISODES 

swim  in  the  tank,"  said  Haydock,  rousing 
him  gently.  They  undressed  in  silence. 
Billy  was  pathetic  and  absurd  in  a  long 
blanket  wrapper,  his  face  still  wet  with 
tears,  pattering  after  Haydock  through 
the  halls  to  the  bath. 

"  Maybe  you  had  better  see  your  c  ad 
viser/  "  Haydock  suggested,  when  they 
were  back  again  in  his  room.  Billy  had  n't 
spoken  in  the  interval. 

"  I  can't  —  he  hates  me  !  "  gulped  Billy, 
turning  away.  Ordinarily  he  would  have 
said  that  the  man  was  "  affreux." 

He  went  to  bed  and  cried  some 
more  on  the  cool  pillows.  Haydock 
wrote  out  a  respectful  form  of  resignation 
from  the  college  for  him  to  copy  in  the 
morning,  composed  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Ware, 
tenderly  adapted  in  all  respects  to  that 
lady's  intellectual  needs,  and  returned, 
when  the  fog  at  his  windows  was  white 
with  the  morning,  to  Paradise  Lost. 


A   DEAD    ISSUE 

MARCUS  THORN,  instructor  in 
Harvard  University,  was  thirty- 
two  years  old  on  the  twentieth  of  June. 
He  looked  thirty-five,  and  felt  about  a 
hundred.  When  he  got  out  of  bed  on 
his  birthday  morning,  and  pattered  into 
the  vestibule  for  his  mail,  the  date  at  the 
top  of  the  Crimson  recalled  the  first  of 
these  unpleasant  truths  to  him.  His  mir 
ror  —  it  was  one  of  those  detestable  fold 
ing  mirrors  in  three  sections  —  enabled 
him  to  examine  his  bald  spot  with  pitiless 
ease,  reproduced  his  profile  some  forty- 
five  times  in  quick  succession,  and  made 
it  possible  for  him  to  see  all  the  way 
round  himself  several  times  at  once.  It 
was  this  devilish  invention  that  revealed 
fact  number  two  to  Mr.  Thorn,  while  he 
was  brushing  his  hair  and  tying  his  neck 
tie.  One  plus  two  equalled  three,  as  usual, 
and  Thorn  felt  old  and  unhappy.  But 
he  did  n't  linger  over  his  dressing  to  phi- 


250  HARVARD    EPISODES 

losophise  on  the  evanescence  of  youth  ; 
he  did  n't  even  murmur,  — 

"  Alas  for  hourly  change  !     Alas  for  all 

The  loves  that  from  his  hand  proud  youth  lets  fall, 

Even  as  the  beads  of  a  told  rosary." 

He  could  do  that  sort  of  thing  very  well  ; 
he  had  been  doing  it  steadily  for  five 
months.  But  this  morning,  the  reality 
of  the  situation  —  impressed  upon  him 
by  the  date  of  his  birth  —  led  him  to  adopt 
more  practical  measures.  What  he  actually 
did,  was  to  disarrange  his  hair  a  little  on 
top,  —  fluff  it  up  to  make  it  look  more,  — 
and  press  it  down  toward  his  temples  to 
remove  the  appearance  of  having  too  much 
complexion  for  the  size  of  his  head. 
Then  he  went  out  to  breakfast. 

Thorn's  birthday  had  fallen,  ironically, 
on  one  of  those  rainwashed,  blue-and-gold 
days  when  "  all  nature  rejoices."  The 
whitest  of  clouds  were  drifting  across  the 
bluest  of  skies  when  the  instructor  walked 
out  into  the  Yard ;  the  elms  rustled  gently 
in  the  delicate  June  haze,  and  the  robins 
hopped  across  the  yellow  paths,  freshly 
sanded,  and  screamed  in  the  sparkling  grass. 
All  nature  rejoiced,  and  in  so  doing  got 


A   DEAD    ISSUE  251 

very  much  on  Thorn's  nerves.  When 
he  reached  his  club,  he  was  a  most  excel 
lent  person  not  to  breakfast  with. 

It  was  early — half-past  eight  —  and  no 
one  except  Prescott,  a  sophomore,  and 
Wynne,  a  junior,  had  dropped  in  as  yet. 
Wynne,  with  his  spectacles  on,  was  sitting 
in  the  chair  he  always  sat  in  at  that  hour, 
reading  the  morning  paper.  Thorn  knew 
that  he  would  read  it  through  from  be 
ginning  to  end,  carefully  put  his  spectacles 
back  in  their  case,  and  then  go  to  the  piano 
and  play  the  "  Blue  Danube."  By  that 
time  his  eggs  and  coffee  would  be  served. 
Wynne  did  this  every  morning,  and  the 
instructor,  who  at  the  beginning  of  the 
year  had  regarded  the  boy's  methodical 
habits  at  the  club  as  "  quaint,"  —  sugges 
tive,  somehow,  of  the  first  chapter  of 
"  Pendennis,"  —  felt  this  morning  that 
the  "  Blue  Danube "  before  breakfast 
would  be  in  the  nature  of  a  last  straw. 
Prescott,  looking  as  fresh  and  clean  as  the 
morning,  was  laughing  over  an  illustrated 
funny  paper.  He  merely  nodded  to 
Thorn,  although  the  instructor  had  n't 
breakfasted  there  for  many  months,  and 
called  him  across  to  enjoy  something. 


252  HARVARD    EPISODES 

Thorn  glanced  at  the  paper  and  smiled 
feebly. 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  can  do  it  at  this 
hour,"  he  said  ;  "  I  would  as  soon  drink 
flat  champagne/'  Prescott  understood  but 
vaguely  what  the  man  was  talking  about, 
yet  he  did  n't  appear  disturbed  or  anxious 
for  enlightenment. 

"  I  '11  have  my  breakfast  on  the  piazza," 
Thorn  said  to  the  steward  who  answered 
his  ring.  Then  he  walked  nervously  out 
of  the  room. 

From  the  piazza  he  could  look  over  a 
tangled  barrier  of  lilac  bushes  and  trellised 
grapevines  into  an  old-fashioned  garden. 
A  slim  lady  in  a  white  dress  and  a  broad 
brimmed  hat  that  hid  her  face  was  cutting 
nasturtiums  and  humming  placidly  to  her 
self.  Thorn  thought  she  was  a  young 
girl,  until  she  turned  and  revealed  the  fact 
that  she  was  not  a  young  girl  —  that  she 
was  about  his  own  age.  This  seemed 
to  annoy  him  in  much  the  same  way  that 
the  robins  and  Wynne  and  the  funny 
paper  had,  for  he  threw  himself  into  a  low 
steamer-chair  where  he  would  n't  have  to 
look  at  the  woman,  and  gave  himself  up 
to  a  sort  of  luxurious  melancholy. 


A    DEAD    ISSUE  253 

In  October,  nine  months  before,  Thorn 
had  appeared  one  evening  in  the  doorway 
of  the  club  dining-room  after  a  more  or 
less  continuous  absence  of  eight  years 
from  Cambridge.  It  was  the  night  before 
college  opened,  and  the  dining-room  was 
crowded.  For  an  instant  there  was  an 
uproar  of  confused  greetings  ;  then  Hay- 
dock  and  Ellis  and  Sears  Wolcott  and 
Wynne  —  the  only  ones  Thorn  knew  — 
pushed  back  from  the  table  and  went  for 
ward  to  shake  hands  with  him.  Of  the 
nine  or  ten  boys  still  left  at  the  table  by 
this  proceeding,  those  whose  backs  were 
turned  to  the  new  arrival  stopped  eating 
and  waited  without  looking  around,  to  be 
introduced  to  the  owner  of  the  unfamiliar 
voice.  Their  companions  opposite  paused 
too ;  some  of  them  laid  their  napkins 
on  the  table.  They,  however,  could 
glance  up  and  see  that  the  newcomer  was 
a  dark  man  of  thirty  years  or  more. 
They  supposed,  correctly,  that  he  was  an 
cc  old  graduate  "  and  a  member  of  the  club, 

"  You  don't  know  any  of  these  people, 
do  you?"  said  Haydock,  taking  him  by 
the  arm ;  "  what  a  devil  of  a  time  you  Ve 
been  away  from  this  place." 


254  HARVARD    EPISODES 

"  I  know  that  that 's  a  Prescott," 
laughed  the  graduate.  In  his  quick  sur 
vey  of  the  table,  while  the  others  had  been 
welcoming  him  back,  his  eyes  had  rested 
a  moment  on  a  big  fellow  with  light  hair. 
Everybody  laughed,  because  it  really  was 
a  Prescott  and  all  Prescotts  were  simply 
more  or  less  happy  replicas  of  all  other 
Prescotts.  "  I  know  your  brothers,"  said 
the  graduate,  shaking  hands  with  the  boy, 
who  had  risen. 

"It's  Mr.  Thorn."  Haydock  made 
this  announcement  loud  enough  to  be 
heard  by  the  crowd.  He  introduced 
every  one,  prefixing  "  Mr."  to  the  names 
of  the  first  few,  but  changing  to  given  and 
even  nicknames  before  completing  the  cir 
cuit  of  the  table.  The  humour  of  some 
of  these  last,  — "  Dink,"  "Pink,"  and 
"Mary,"  for  instance,  —  lost  sight  of  in 
long  established  usage,  suggested  itself 
anew ;  and  the  fellows  laughed  again  as 
they  made  a  place  for  Thorn  at  the  crowded 
table. 

"It's  six  years,  isn't  it?"  Haydock 
asked  politely.  The  others  had  begun 
to  babble  cheerfully  again  of  their  own 
affairs. 


A    DEAD    ISSUE  255 

"  Six  !  I  wish  it  were  ;  it 's  eight,"  an 
swered  Thorn.  cc  Eight  since  I  left  col 
lege.  But  of  course  I  Ve  been  here  two 
or  three  times  since,  — just  long  enough 
to  make  me  unhappy  at  having  to  go  back 
to  Europe  again." 

cc  And  now  you  're  a  great,  haughty 
Ph.  D.  person,  an  'Officer  of  Instruction 
and  Government/  announced  in  the  pro 
spectus  to  teach  in  two  courses,"  mused 
Ellis,  admiringly.  "  How  do  you  like 
the  idea?" 

"  It 's  very  good  to  be  back,"  said 
Thorn.  He  looked  about  the  familiar 
room  with  a  contented  smile,  while  the 
steward  bustled  in  and  out  to  supply  him 
with  the  apparatus  of  dining. 

It  was,  indeed,  good  to  be  back.  The 
satisfaction  deepened  and  broadened  with 
every  moment.  It  was  good  to  be  again 
in  the  town,  the  house,  the  room  that, 
during  his  life  abroad,  he  had  grown  to 
look  upon  more  as  "  home "  than  any 
place  in  the  world;  good  to  come  back 
and  find  that  the  place  had  changed  so 
little  ;  good,  for  instance,  when  he  ordered 
a  bottle  of  beer,  to  have  it  brought  to 
him  in  his  own  mug,  with  his  name  and 


256  HARVARD    EPISODES 

class  cut  in  the  pewter, — just  as  if  he 
had  never  been  away  at  all.  This  was 
but  one  of  innumerable  little  things  that 
made  Thorn  feel  that  at  last  he  was  where 
he  belonged  ;  that  he  had  stepped  into  his 
old  background  ;  that  it  still  fitted.  The 
fellows,  of  course,  were  recent  acquisi 
tions —  all  of  them.  Even  his  four  ac 
quaintances  had  entered  college  long  since 
his  own  time.  But  the  crowd,  except  that 
it  seemed  to  him  a  gathering  decidedly 
younger  than  his  contemporaries  had  been 
at  the  same  age,  was  in  no  way  strange  to 
him.  There  were  the  same  general  types 
of  young  men  up  and  down  the  table,  and 
at  both  ends,  that  he  had  known  in  his 
day.  They  were  discussing  the  same 
topics,  in  the  same  tones  and  inflections, 
that  had  made  the  dinner-table  lively  in 
the  eighties,  —  which  was  not  surprising 
when  he  considered  that  certain  families 
belong  to  certain  clubs  at  Harvard  almost 
as  a  matter  of  course,  and  that  some  of 
the  boys  at  the  table  were  the  brothers 
and  cousins  of  his  own  classmates.  He 
realised,  with  a  glow  of  sentiment,  that  he 
had  returned  to  his  own  people  after  years 
of  absence  in  foreign  lands  ;  a  perform- 


A    DEAD    ISSUE  257 

ance  whose  emotional  value  was  not  de 
creased  for  Thorn  by  the  conviction,  just 
then,  that  his  own  people  were  better  bred, 
and    better   looking,    and    better    dressed 
than  any  he  had  met  elsewhere.     As  he 
looked  about  at   his    civilised    surround 
ings,  and  took  in,  from  the  general  chatter, 
fragments  of  talk,  —  breezy  and   cosmo 
politan  with  incidents  of  the  vacation  just 
ended,  —  he    considered    his    gratification 
worth    the    time    he    had    been   spending 
among  the  fuzzy  young  gentlemen  of  a 
German  university. 

Thorn,  like  many  another  college  an 
tiquity,  might  have  been  the  occasion  of 
a    mutual    feeling    of   constraint    had    he 
descended  upon  this  undergraduate  meal 
in  the  indefinite  capacity  of  "  an  old  grad 
uate."     The  ease  with  which  he  filled  his 
place  at  the  table,  and  the  effortless  civility 
that  acknowledged  his  presence  there,  were 
largely  due  to  his  never  having  allowed 
his  interest  in  the  life  of  the  club  to  wane 
during  his  years  away  from  it.     He  knew 
the  sort  of  men  the  place  had  gone  in  for, 
and,  in  many  instances,  their  names  as  well. 
Some   of   his   own   classmates  —  glad,  no 
doubt,  of  so  congenial  an  item  for  their 


258  HARVARD    EPISODES 

occasional  European  letters  —  had  never 
failed  to  write  him,  in  diverting  detail,  of 
the  great  Christmas  and  spring  dinners. 
And  they,  in  turn,  had  often  read  extracts 
from  Thorn's  letters  to  them,  when  called 
on  to  speak  at  these  festivities.  More 
than  once  the  graduate  had  sent,  from  the 
other  side  of  the  world,  some  doggerel 
verses,  a  sketch  to  be  used  as  a  dinner- 
card,  or  a  trifling  addition  to  the  club's 
library  or  dining-room.  Haydock  and 
Ellis  and  Wolcott  and  Wynne  he  had 
met  at  various  times  abroad.  He  had 
made  a  point  of  hunting  them  up  and  get 
ting  to  know  them,  with  the  result  that 
his  interest  had  succeeded  in  preserving 
his  identity ;  he  was  not  unknown  to  the 
youngest  member  of  the  club.  If  they 
didn't  actually  know  him,  they  at  least 
knew  of  him.  Even  this  crust  is  sweet 
to  the  returned  graduate  whose  age  is 
just  far  enough  removed  from  either  end 
of  life's  measure  to  make  it  intrinsically 
unimportant. 

"  What  courses  do  you  give  ?  "  It  was 
the  big  Prescott,  sitting  opposite,  who 
asked  this.  The  effort  involved  a  change 
of  colour. 


A    DEAD    ISSUE  259 

cc  You  'd  better  look  out,  or  you  '11  have 
Pink  in  your  class  the  first  thing  you 
know/'  some  one  called,  in  a  voice  of 
warning,  from  the  other  end  of  the  table. 

"Yes;  he's  on  the  lookout  for  snaps," 
said  some  one  else. 

c  Then  he  'd  better  stay  away  from  my 
lectures,"  answered  Thorn,  smiling  across 
at  Prescott,  who  blushed  some  more  at 
this  sudden  convergence  of  attention  on 
himself.  "  They  say  that  new  instructors 
always  mark  hard — just  to  show  off." 

"  I  had  you  on  my  list  before  I  knew 
who  you  were,"  announced  another.  "  I 
thought  the  course  looked  interesting ; 
you  '11  have  to  let  me  through." 

"  Swipe  !  swipe  !  "  came  in  a  chorus 
from  around  the  table.  This  bantering 
attitude  toward  his  official  position  pleased 
Thorn,  perhaps,  more  than  anything  else. 
It  flattered  and  reassured  him  as  to  the  im 
pression  his  personality  made  on  younger 
—  much  younger  —  men.  He  almost  saw 
in  himself  the  solution  of  the  perennial 
problem  of"  How  to  bring  about  a  closer 
sympathy  between  instructor  and  student." 
^  After  dinner  Haydock  and  Ellis  took 
him  from  room  to  room,  and  showed  him 


260  HARVARD    EPISODES 

the  new  table,  the  new  rugs,  the  new 
books,  ex  dono  this,  that,  and  the  other 
member.  In  the  library  he  came  across 
one  of  his  own  sketches,  prettily  framed. 
Some  of  his  verses  had  been  carefully 
pasted  into  the  club  scrap-book.  Ellis 
and  Haydock  turned  to  his  class  photo 
graph  in  the  album,  and  laughed.  It  was 
not  until  long  afterwards  that  he  wondered 
if  they  had  done  so  because  the  picture 
had  not  yet  begun  to  lose  its  hair.  When 
they  had  seen  everything  from  the  kitchen 
to  the  attic,  they  went  back  to  the  big 
room  where  the  fellows  were  drinking 
their  coffee  and  smoking.  Others  had 
come  in  in  the  interval  ;  they  were  condol 
ing  gaily  with  those  already  arrived,  on  the 
hard  luck  of  having  to  be  in  Cambridge 
once  more.  Thorn  stood  with  his  back 
to  the  fireplace,  and  observed  them. 

It  was  anything  but  a  representative 
collection  of  college  men.  There  were 
athletes,  it  was  true,  —  Prescott  was  one, 
—  and  men  who  helped  edit  the  college 
papers,  and  men  who  stood  high  in  their 
studies,  and  others  who  did  n't  stand  any 
where,  talking  and  chaffing  in  that  room. 
But  it  was  characteristic  of  the  life  of  the 


A    DEAD    ISSUE  261 

college  that  these  varied  distinctions   had 
in  no  way  served  to  bring  the  fellows  to 
gether  there.     That  Ellis  would,  without 
doubt,  graduate  with  a  magna,  perhaps  a 
summa  cum  laude,  was  a  matter  of  interest 
to  no  one  but  Ellis.     That  Prescott  had 
played    admirable    foot-ball    on    Soldiers' 
Field  the  year  before,  and  would   shortly 
do  it  again,  made  Prescott  indispensable  to 
the  Eleven,  perhaps,  but  it  did  n't  in  the 
least  enhance  his  value  to   the   club.      In 
fact,  it  kept  him  away  so  much,  and  sent 
him  to  bed  so  early,  that  his  skill  at  the 
game  was,  at  times,  almost  deplored.    That 
Haydock    once    in    a    while    contributed 
verses  of  more  than  ordinary  merit  to  the 
"  Monthly  "  and  "  Advocate  "  had  nearly 
kept  him  out  of  the  club  altogether.     It 
was  the  one  thing  against  him,  —  he  had 
to  live  it  down.     On  the  whole,  the  club, 
like  all  of  the   five  small   clubs   at   Har 
vard  whose  influence  is  the  most  power 
ful,  the  farthest  reaching  influence  in  the 
undergraduate    life    of  the    place,    rather 
prided    itself  in   not  being   a   reward  for 
either  the  meritorious  or  the  energetic.    It 
was  composed  of  young  men  drawn  from 
the  same  station  in  life,  the   similarity  of 


262  HARVARD    EPISODES 

whose  past  associations  and  experience,  in 
addition  to  whatever  natural  attractions 
they  possessed,  rendered  them  mutually 
agreeable.  The  system  was  scarcely  broad 
ening,  but  it  was  very  delightful.  And 
as  the  graduate  stood  there  watching  the 
fellows  —  brown  and  exuberant  after  the 
long  vacation  —  come  and  go,  discussing, 
comparing,  or  simply  fooling,  but  always 
frankly  absorbed  in  themselves  and  one 
another,  he  could  not  help  thinking 
that  however  much  such  institutions  had 
helped  to  enfeeble  the  class  spirit  of  days 
gone  by,  they  had  a  rather  exquisite,  if 
less  diffusive  spirit  of  their  own.  He 
liked  the  liveliness  of  the  place,  the  broad, 
simple  terms  of  intimacy  on  which  every 
one  seemed  to  be  with  every  one  else, 
the  freedom  of  speech  and  action.  Not 
that  he  had  any  desire  to  bombard  people 
with  sofa-cushions,  as  Sears  Wolcott  hap 
pened  to  be  doing  at  that  instant,  or  even 
to  lie  on  his  back  in  the  middle  of  the 
centre-table  with  his  head  under  the  lamp, 
and  read  the  "  Transcript,"  as  some  one 
else  had  done  most  of  the  evening  ;  but 
he  enjoyed  the  environment  that  made 
such  things  possible  and  unobjectionable. 


A    DEAD   ISSUE  263 

"  I  must  make  a  point  of  coming  here 
a  great  deal,"  reflected  Thorn. 

The  next  day  college  opened.  More 
men  enrolled  in  Thorn's  class  that  after 
noon  than  he  thought  would  be  attracted 
by  the  subject  he  was  announced  to  lecture 
in  on  that  day  of  the  week.  Among  all  the 
students  who  straggled,  during  the  hour, 
into  the  bare  recitation-room  at  the  top  of 
Sever,  the  only  ones  whose  individualities 
were  distinct  enough  to  impress  them 
selves  on  Thorn's  unpractised  memory, 
were  a  negro,  a  stained  ivory  statuette  of 
a  creature  from  Japan,  a  middle-aged  gen 
tleman  with  a  misplaced  trust  in  the 
efficacy  of  a  flowing  sandy  beard  for  con 
cealing  an  absence  of  collar  and  necktie, 
Prescott,  and  Haydock.  Prescott  sur 
prised  him.  There  was  a  crowd  around 
the  desk  when  he  appeared,  and  Thorn 
did  n't  get  a  chance  to  speak  to  him ; 
but  he  was  pleased  to  have  the  boy  enrol 
in  his  course,  — more  pleased  somehow 
than  if  there  had  been  any  known  intel 
lectual  reason  for  his  having  done  such  a 
thing ;  more  pleased,  for  instance,  than  he 
was  when  Haydock  strolled  in  a  moment 
or  two  later,  although  he  knew  that  the 


264  HARVARD    EPISODES 

senior  would  get  from  his  teachings  what 
ever  there  was  in  them.  Haydock  was 
the  last  to  arrive  before  the  hour  ended. 
Thorn  gathered  up  his  pack  of  enrolment 
cards,  and  the  two  left  the  noisy  building 
together. 

"  Prescott  enrolled  just  a  minute  or  two 
before  you  did,"  said  Thorn,  as  they 
walked  across  the  Yard.  He  was  a  vain 
man  in  a  quiet  way. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Haydock  drily,  "  he 
said  your  course  came  at  a  convenient 
hour,"  he  did  n't  add  that,  from  what  he 
knew  of  Prescott,  complications  might, 
under  the  circumstances,  be  looked  for. 

"Shall  I  see  you  at  dinner?"  Thorn 
asked  before  they  separated. 

"  Oh,  are  you  going  to  eat  at  the 
club  ? "  Haydock  had  wondered  the 
night  before  how  much  the  man  would 
frequent  the  place. 

"  Why,  yes,  I  thought  I  would  —  for  a 
time  at  least."  No  other  arrangement  had 
ever  occurred  to  Thorn. 

"That's  good — I'm  glad,"  said  the 
senior ;  he  asked  himself,  as  he  walked 
away,  why  truthful  people  managed  to  lie 
so  easily  and  so  often  in  the  course  of  a 


A   DEAD    ISSUE  265 

day.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  was  vaguely 
sorry  for  what  Thorn  had  just  told  him. 
Haydock  did  n't  object  to  the  instructor. 
Had  his  opinion  been  asked,  he  would 
have  said,  with  truth,  that  he  liked  the 
man.  For  Thorn  was  intelligent,  and 
what  Haydock  called  "house  broken," 
and  the  two  had  once  spent  a  pleasant 
week  together  in  Germany.  It  was  not 
inhospitality,  but  a  disturbed  sense  of  the 
fitness  of  things  that  made  Haydock  re 
gret  Thorn's  apparent  intention  of  becom 
ing  so  intimate  with  his  juniors.  The 
instructor's  place,  Haydock  told  himself, 
was  with  his  academic  colleagues,  at  the 
Colonial  Club  —  or  wherever  it  was  that 
they  ate. 

Thorn  did  dine  with  the  undergradu 
ates  that  night,  and  on  many  nights  fol 
lowing.  It  was  a  privilege  he  enjoyed  for 
a  time  exceedingly.  It  amused  him,  and, 
after  the  first  few  weeks  of  his  new  life  in 
Cambridge,  he  craved  amusement.  For 
in  spite  of  the  work  he  did  for  the  college 
—  the  preparing  and  delivering  of  lec 
tures,  the  reading  and  marking  of  various 
written  tasks,  and  the  enlightening,  during 
consultation  hours,  of  long  haired,  long 


266  HARVARD    EPISODES 

winded   seekers  after    truth,  whose    cold, 
insistent    passion    for    the     literal    almost 
crazed    him  —  he    was    often    profoundly 
bored.    He  had  not  been  away  from  Cam 
bridge  long  enough  to  outlive  the  convic 
tion,  acquired  in  his   Freshman  year,  that 
the  residents  of  that  suburb  would  prove 
unexhilarating  if  in  a  moment  of  inadver 
tence  he  should  ever  chance  to  meet  any 
of  them.     But  he  had  been  too  long  an 
exile  to  retain  a  very  satisfactory  grasp  on 
contemporary     Boston.       Of    course     he 
hunted  up  some  of  his  classmates  he  had 
known  well.     Most  of  them  were  men  of 
affairs    in    a    way    that  was   as  yet   small 
enough  to  make    them    seem    to    Thorn 
aggressively  full  of  purpose.     They  were 
all  glad  to  see  him.     Some  of  them  asked 
him  to  luncheon  in   town   at  hours  that 
proved    inconvenient    to    one    living    in 
Cambridge  ;  some  of  them  had  wives,  and 
asked  him  to  call  on  them.     He  did  so, 
and  found  them  to  be  nice  women.     But 
this   he   had  suspected   before.      Two   of 
his     classmates    were     rich     beyond    the 
dreams  of  industry.     They  toiled  not,  and 
might  have  been  diverting  if  they  had  n't 
—  both   of  them  —  happened  to   be  un- 


A    DEAD    ISSUE  267 

speakably  dull  men.  For  one  reason  or 
another,  he  found  it  impossible  to  see  his 
friends  often  enough  to  get  into  any  but 
a  very  lame  sort  of  step  with  their  lives. 
Thorn's  occasional  meetings  with  them 
left  him  melancholy,  sceptical  as  to  the 
depth  of  their  natures  and  his  own, 
cynical  as  to  the  worth  of  college  friend 
ships  —  friendships  that  had  depended,  for 
their  warmth,  so  entirely  on  propinquity 
—  on  the  occasion.  His  most  absorbing 
topics  of  conversation  with  the  men  he 
had  once  known  —  his  closest  ties  — were 
after  all  issues  very  trivial  and  very  dead. 
Dinner  with  a  classmate  he  grew  to  look 
on  as  either  suicide,  or  a  post  mortem. 

It  was  the  club  with  its  fifteen  or 
twenty  undergraduate  members  that  went 
far  at  first  toward  satisfying  his  idle 
moments.  Dead  issues,  other  than  the 
personal  traditions  that  added  colour  and 
atmosphere  to  the  every  day  life  of  the 
place,  were  given  no  welcome  there.  The 
thrill  of  the  fleeting  present  was  enough. 
The  life  Thorn  saw  there  was,  as  far  as  he 
could  tell,  more  than  complete  with  the 
healthy  joy  of  eating  and  drinking,  of 
going  to  the  play,  of  getting  hot  and 


268  HARVARD    EPISODES 

dirty  and  tired  over  athletics,  and  cool  and 
clean  and  hungry  again  afterwards.  The 
instructor  was  entranced  by  its  innocence 
—  its  unconscious  contentment.  It  was 
so  unlike  his  own  life  of  recent  years,  he 
told  himself;  it  was  so  "  physical."  He 
liked  to  stop  at  the  club  late  in  the  winter 
afternoons,  after  a  brisk  walk  on  Brattle 
Street.  There  was  always  a  crowd  around 
the  fire  at  that  hour,  and  no  room  that  he 
could  remember  had  ever  seemed  so  full 
of  warmth  and  sympathy  as  the  big  room 
where  the  fellows  sat,  at  five  o'clock  on 
a  winter's  day,  with  the  curtains  drawn 
and  the  light  of  the  fire  flickering  up  the 
dark  walls  and  across  the  ceiling.  He  often 
dropped  in  at  midnight,  or  even  later. 
The  place  was  rarely  quite  deserted. 
Returned  "  theatre  bees  "  came  there  to 
scramble  eggs  and  drink  beer,  instead  of 
tarrying  with  the  mob  at  the  Victoria  or 
the  Adams  House.  In  the  chill  of 
the  small  hours,  a  herdic  load  of  boys 
from  some  dance  in  town  would  often 
stream  in  to  gossip  and  get  warm,  or  to 
give  the  driver  a  drink  after  the  long 
cold  drive  across  the  bridge.  And 
Thorn,  who  had  not  been  disposed  to 


A    DEAD    ISSUE  269 

gather  up  and  cling  to  the  dropped 
threads  of  his  old  interests,  who  was 
not  wedded  to  his  work,  who  was  not 
sufficient  unto  himself,  enjoyed  it  all 
thoroughly,  unreservedly  —  for  a  time. 

For  a  time  only.  For  as  the  winter 
wore  on,  the  inevitable  happened  —  or 
rather  the  expected  did  n't  happen,  which 
is  pretty  much  the  same  thing  after  all. 
Thorn,  observant,  analytical,  and  —  where 
he  himself  was  not  concerned  —  clever, 
grew  to  know  the  fellows  better  than  they 
knew  themselves.  Before  he  had  lived 
among  them  three  months,  he  had  appre 
ciated  their  respective  temperaments,  he 
had  taken  the  measure  of  their  ambitions 
and  limitations,  he  had  catalogued  their 
likes  and  dislikes,  he  had  pigeon-holed 
their  weaknesses  and  illuminated  their 
virtues.  Day  after  day,  night  after  night, 
consciously  and  unconsciously,  he  had  ob 
served  them  in  what  was  probably  the 
frankest,  simplest  intercourse  of  their 
lives.  And  he  knew  them. 

But  they  did  n't  know  him.  Nor  did 
it  ever  occur  to  them  that  they  wanted  to 
or  could.  They  were  not  seeking  the 
maturer  companionship  Thorn  had  to 


2yo  HARVARD   EPISODES 

give  ;  they  were  not  seeking  much  of  any 
thing.  They  took  life  as  they  found  it 
near  at  hand,  and  Thorn  was  far,  very 
far  away.  For  them,  the  niche  he  occu 
pied  could  have  been  filled  by  any  gentle 
man  of  thirty-two  with  a  kind  interest  in 
them  and  an  affection  for  the  club.  To 
him,  they  were  everything  that  made  the 
world,  as  he  knew  it  just  then,  interesting 
and  beautiful.  Youth,  energy,  cleanli 
ness  were  the  trinity  Thorn  worshipped. 
And  they  were  young,  strong,  and  unde- 
filed.  Yet,  after  the  first  pleasure  at  being 
back  had  left  him,  Thorn  was  not  a  happy 
man,  although  he  had  not  then  begun  to 
tell  himself  so. 

The  seemingly  unimportant  question 
presented  by  his  own  name  began^  to 
worry  him  a  little  as  the  weeks  passed  into 
months.  First  names  and  the  absurd 
sounds  men  had  answered  to  from  baby 
hood  were  naturally  in  common  use  at  the 
club.  Thorn  dropped  into  the  way  of 
them  easily,  as  a  matter  of  course.  Not 
to  have  done  so  would,  in  time,  have  be 
come  impossible.  The  fellows  would  have 
thought  it  strange  —  formal.  Yet  the 
name  of  "  Marcus  "  was  rarely  heard  there. 


A   DEAD    ISSUE  271 

Haydock,  once  in  a  while,  called  him  that, 
after  due  premeditation.  Sears  Wolcott 
occasionally  used  it  by  way  of  a  joke  — 
as  if  he  were  taking  an  impertinent  liberty, 
and  rather  enjoyed  doing  it.  But  none  of 
the  other  men  ever  did.  On  no  occasion 
had  any  one  said  "  Marcus "  absent- 
mindedly,  and  then  looked  embarrassed,  as 
Thorn  had  hoped  might  happen.  It  hurt 
him  a  little  always  to  be  called  "  Thorn  ;  " 
to  be  appealed  to  in  the  capacity  of  "  Mr. 
Thorn,'*  as  he  sometimes  was  by  the 
younger  members,  positively  annoyed 
him.  Prescott  was  the  most  incorrigible 
in  this  respect.  He  had  come  from  one 
of  those  fitting  schools  where  all  speech 
between  master  and  pupil  is  carried  on  to 
a  monotonous  chant  of  "Yes,  sir,"  "No, 
sir,"  and  "  I  think  so,  sir."  He  had  ideas, 
or  rather  habits,  —  for  Prescott's  ideas 
were  few,  —  of  deference  to  those  whose 
mission  it  was  to  assist  in  his  education 
that  Thorn  found  almost  impossible  to 
displace.  For  a  long  time  —  until  the 
graduate  laughed  and  asked  him  not  to 
—  he  prefixed  the  distasteful  "Mr."  to 
Thorn's  name.  Then,  for  as  long  again, 
he  refrained  markedly  from  calling  him 


272  HARVARD    EPISODES 

anything.  One  afternoon  he  came  into 
the  club  where  the  instructor  was  alone, 
writing  a  letter,  and  after  fussing  for  a 
time  among  the  magazines  on  the  table, 
he  managed  to  say,  — 

"Thorn,  do  you  know  whether  Sears 
has  been  here  since  luncheon  ? " 

Thorn  did  n't  know  and  he  did  n't  care, 
but  had  Prescott  handed  him  an  appoint 
ment  to  an  assistant  professor's  chair,  in 
stead  of  having  robbed  him  a  little  of 
what  dignity  he  possessed,  he  would  not 
have  been  so  elated  by  half.  Prescott 
continued  to  call  him  "  Thorn  "  after  that, 
but  always  with  apparent  effort,  —  as  if 
aware  that  in  doing  it  he  was  not  living 
quite  up  to  his  principles.  This  trouble 
with  his  name  might  have  served  Thorn 
as  an  indication  of  what  his  position  actu 
ally  was  in  the  tiny  world  he  longed  so 
much  to  be  part  of  once  more.  But  he 
was  not  a  clever  man  where  he  himself 
was  concerned. 

Little  things  hurt  him  constantly  with 
out  opening  his  eyes.  For  instance,  it 
rarely  occurred  to  the  fellows  that  the 
instructor  might  care  to  join  them  in  any 
of  their  hastily  planned  expeditions  to 


A    DEAD    ISSUE  273 

town  after  dinner.  Not  that  he  was 
ostracised ;  he  was  simply  overlooked. 
When  he  did  go  to  the  theatre,  he  bought 
the  tickets  himself,  and  asked  Prescott  or 
Sears,  or  some  of  them,  to  go  with  him. 
The  occasion  invariably  lacked  the  charm 
of  spontaneity.  When  he  invited  any  of 
them  to  dine  with  him  in  town,  as  he  often 
did,  they  went,  if  they  had  n't  anything 
else  to  do,  and  seemed  to  enjoy  their  din 
ner.  But  to  Thorn  these  feasts  were  a 
series  of  disappointments.  He  always 
got  up  from  the  table  with  a  sense  of  hav 
ing  failed  in  something.  What?  He 
did  n't  know  —  he  could  n't  have  told. 
He  was  like  a  man  who  shoots  carefully  at 
nothing,  and  then  feels  badly  because  he 
hits  it.  He  persisted  in  loitering  along 
sunny  lanes,  and  growing  melancholy 
because  they  led  nowhere.  It  was 
Sears  Wolcott  who  took  even  the  zest 
of  anticipation  out  of  Thorn's  little 
dinners  in  town,  by  saying  to  the  grad 
uate  one  evening, — 

"  What 's  the  point  of  going  to  the  Vic 
toria  for  dinner?     It's  less  trouble,  and  a 
damned  sight  livelier,   to   eat  out  here." 
Sears   had   what    Haydock    called,  "that 
18 


274  HARVARD    EPISODES 

disagreeable  habit  of  hitting  promiscu 
ously  from  the  shoulder.'*  The  reaction 
on  Thorn  of  all  this  was  at  last  a  dawn 
ing  suspicion  of  his  own  unimportance. 
By  the  time  the  midyear  examinations 
came,  he  felt  somehow  as  if  he  were 
"  losing  ground  ;  "  he  had  n't  reached  the 
point  yet  of  realising  that  he  never  had 
had  any.  He  used  to  throw  down  his 
work  in  a  fit  of  depression  and  consult 
his  three-sided  mirror  apprehensively. 

The  big  Prescott,  however,  became  the 
real  problem,  around  which  the  others 
were  as  mere  corollaries.  It  was  he  who 
managed,  in  his  "  artless  Japanese  way," 
as  the  fellows  used  to  call  it,  to  crystallise 
the  situation,  to  bring  it  to  a  pass  where 
Thorn's  rather  unmanly  sentimentality 
found  itself  confronted  by  something 
more  definite  and  disturbing  than  merely 
the  vanishing  point  of  youth.  Prescott 
accomplished  this  very  simply,  by  doing 
the  poorest  kind  of  work  —  no  work  at 
all,  in  fact  —  in  the  course  he  was  taking 
from  Thorn.  Barely,  and  by  the  grace 
of  the  instructor,  had  he  scraped  through 
the  first  examination  in  November.  Since 
then  he  had  rested  calmly,  like  a  great 


A    DEAD    ISSUE  275 

monolith,  on  his  laurels.  He  went  to 
Thorn's  lectures  only  after  intervals  of 
absence  that  made  his  going  at  all  a  farce. 
He  ignored  the  written  work  of  the  course, 
and  the  reports  on  outside  reading,  with 
magnificent  completeness.  Altogether,  he 
behaved  as  he  would  n't  have  behaved  had 
he  ever  for  a  moment  considered  Thorn 
in  any  light  other  than  that  of  an  in 
structor,  an  officer  of  the  college,  a  crea 
ture  to  whom  deference  —  servility,  almost 
—  was  due  when  he  was  compelled  to  talk 
to  him,  but  to  whom  all  obligation  ended 
there.  His  attitude  was  not  an  unusual 
one  among  college  "  men  "  who  have  not 
outgrown  the  school  idea,  but  the  atten 
dant  circumstances  were.  For  Thorn's 
concern  over  Prescott's  indifference  to  the 
course  was  aroused  by  a  strong  personal 
attachment,  one  in  which  an  ordinary 
professorial  interest  had  nothing  to  do. 
He  smarted  at  his  failure  to  attract  the 
boy  sufficiently  to  draw  him  to  his  lec 
tures  ;  yet  he  looked  with  a  sort  of  panic 
toward  the  ;  approaching  day  when  he 
should  be  obliged,  in  all  conscience,  to 
flunk  him  in  the  midyear  examination. 
He  admired  Prescott,  as  little,  intelligent 


276  HARVARD   EPISODES 

men  sometimes  do  admire  big,  stupid 
ones.  He  idealised  him,  and  even  went 
the  length,  one  afternoon  when  taking  a 
walk  with  Haydock,  of  telling  the  senior 
that  under  Prescott's  restful,  olympic  ex 
terior  he  thought  there  lurked  a  soul. 
To  which  Haydock  had  answered  with 
asperity,  " Well,  I  hope  so,  I'm  sure," 
and  let  the  subject  drop.  Later  in  the 
walk,  Haydock  announced,  irrelevantly, 
and  with  a  good  deal  of  vigour,  that  if  he 
ever  made  or  inherited  millions,  he  would 
establish  a  chair  in  the  university,  call  it 
the  "  Haydock  Professorship  of  Common 
Sense,"  and  respectfully  suggest  to  the 
President  and  Faculty  that  the  course  be 
made  compulsory. 

Thorn  would  have  spoken  to  the  soul 
ful  Prescott,  —  told  him  gently  that  he 
did  n't  seem  to  be  quite  in  sympathy  with 
the  work  of  the  course,  —  if  Prescott  had 
condescended  to  go  to  his  lectures  in  the 
six  or  seven  weeks  between  the  end  of 
the  Christmas  recess  and  the  examination 
period.  But  Prescott  cut  Tuesday,  Thurs 
day,  and  Saturday,  at  half-past  two  o'clock, 
with  a  regularity  that,  considered  as  regu 
larity,  was  admirable.  Toward  the  last, 


A   DEAD    ISSUE 


277 


he  did  drop  in  every  now  and  then,  sit 
near  the  door,  and  slip  out  again  before 
the  hour  was  ended.  This  was  just  after 
he  had  been  summoned  by  the  Recorder 
to  the  Office  for  "  cutting."  Thorn  never 
got  a  chance  to  speak  to  him.  He  might 
have  approached  the  boy  at  the  club  ;  but 
the  instructor  shrank  from  taking  advan 
tage  of  his  connection  with  that  place  to 
make  a  delicate  official  duty  possible.  He 
had  all  along  avoided  "  shop "  there  so 
elaborately,  —  had  made  so  light  of  it  when 
the  subject  had  come  up,  —  that  he 
could  n't  bring  himself  at  that  late  day  to 
arise,  viper  like,  from  the  hearthstone  and 
smite.  A  note  of  warning  would  have 
had  to  be  light,  facetious,  and  consequently 
without  value,  in  order  not  to  prove  a 
very  false  and  uncalled  for  note  indeed. 
The  ready  cooperation  of  the  Dean,  Thorn 
refrained  from  calling  on  ;  he  was  far  from 
wishing  to  get  Prescott  into  difficulties. 

By  the  time  the  examination  day  arrived, 
the  instructor  was  in  a  state  of  turmoil 
that  in  ordinary  circumstances  would  have 
been  excessive  and  absurd.  In  the  case 
of  Thorn,  it  was  half  pathetic,  half  con 
temptible.  He  knew  that  in  spite  of 


278  HARVARD   EPISODES 

Prescott's  soul  (a  superabundance  of  soul 
is,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  a  positive  hindrance 
in  passing  examinations),  the  boy  would 
do  wretchedly.  To  give  him  an  E  —  the 
lowest  possible  mark,  always  excepting,  of 
course,  the  jocose  and  sarcastic  F  —  would 
be  to  bring  upon  himself  Prescott's  ever 
lasting  anger  and  "  despision."  Of  this 
Thorn  was  sure.  Furthermore,  the  mark 
would  not  tend  to  make  the  instructor 
wildly  popular  at  the  club  ;  for  although 
everybody  was  willing  to  concede  that 
Prescott  was  not  a  person  of  brilliant  men 
tal  attainments,  he  was  very  much  beloved. 
One  hears  a  good  deal  about  the  "  rough 
justice  of  boys."  Thorn  knew  that  such 
a  thing  existed,  and  did  not  doubt  but 
that,  in  theory,  he  would  be  upheld  by  the 
members  of  the  club  if  he  gave  Prescott 
an  E,  and  brought  the  heavy  hand  of  the 
Office  down  on  him.  But  the  justice  of 
boys,  he  reflected,  was,  after  all,  rough  ;  it 
would  acknowledge  his  right  to  flunk 
Prescott,  perhaps,  and,  without  doubt,  hate 
him  cordially  for  doing  it.  Thorn's  aver 
sion  to  being  hated  was  almost  morbid. 

If,  on   the  other  hand,  he  let  the  boy 
through,  —  gave  him,  say,  the  undeserved 


A   DEAD    ISSUE  279 

and  highly  respectable  mark  of  C,  — 
well,  that  would  be  tampering  dishonestly 
with  the  standards  of  the  college,  gross 
injustice  to  the  rest  of  the  students,  in 
jurious  to  the  self-respect  of  the  instructor, 
and  a  great  many  other  objectionable 
things,  too  numerous  to  mention.  Alto 
gether,  Thorn  was  in  a  "state  of  mind." 
He  began  to  understand  something  of  the 
fine  line  that  separates  instructor  from 
instructed,  on  whose  other  side  neither 
may  trespass. 

When  at  length  the  morning  of  the 
examination  had  come  and  gone,  and 
Thorn  was  in  his  own  room  at  his  desk 
with  the  neat  bundle  of  blue-covered  books 
before  him,  in  which  the  examinations  are 
written,  it  was  easy  enough  to  make  up 
his  mind.  He  knew  that  the  question  of 
flunking  or  passing  Prescott  admitted  of 
no  arguments  whatever.  The  boy's  work 
in  the  course  failed  to  present  the  tiniest 
loophole  in  the  way  of  "  extenuating  cir 
cumstances,"  and  Prescott  had  capped  the 
climax  of  his  past  record  that  morning  by 
staying  in  the  examination-room  just  an 
hour  and  a  quarter  of  the  three  hours  he 
was  supposed  to  be  there.  That  alone 


28o  HARVARD    EPISODES 

was  equivalent  to  failure  in  a  man  of  Pres- 
cott's  denseness.  Not  to  give  Prescott  a 
simple  and  unadorned  E  would  be  hold 
ing  the  pettiest  of  personal  interests  higher 
than  one's  duty  to  the  college.  There 
was  no  other  way  of  looking  at  it.  And 
Thorn,  whose  mind  was  perfectly  clear 
on  this  point,  deliberately  extricated  Pres- 
cott's  book  from  the  blue  pile  on  his  desk, 
dropped  it  carelessly  —  without  opening 
it  —  into  the  glowing  coals  of  his  fireplace, 
and  entered  the  boy's  midyear  mark  in 
the  records  as  C. 

No  lectures  are  given  in  the  college 
during  the  midyears.  Men  who  are  fortu 
nate  enough  to  finish  their  examinations 
early  in  the  period  can  run  away  to  New 
York,  to  the  country,  to  Old  Point  Com 
fort,  to  almost  anywhere  that  is  n't  Cam 
bridge,  and  recuperate.  Haydock  went 
South.  Ellis  and  Wynne  tried  a  walk 
ing  trip  in  the  Berkshire  Hills,  and,  after 
two  days'  floundering  in  the  mud,  waded 
to  the  nearest  train  for  a  city.  Boston  men 
went  to  Boston  —  except  Sears  Wolcott 
and  Prescott,  who  disappeared  to  some 
wild  and  inaccessible  New  England  ham 
let  to  snow-shoe  or  spear  fish  or  shoot 


A    DEAD    ISSUE  281 

rabbits;  no  one  could  with  authority  say 
which,  as  the  two  had  veiled  their  prepa 
rations  in  mystery.  So  it  happened  that 
Thorn  did  n't  see  Prescott  for  more  than 
a  week  after  he  had  marked  his  book. 
In  the  mean  time  he  had  become  used  to 
the  idea  of  having  done  it  according  to 
to  a  somewhat  unconventional  system  — 
to  put  it  charitably.  He  passed  much  of 
the  time  in  which  the  fellows  were  away, 
alone  ;  for  the  few  who  went  to  the  club, 
went  there  with  note-books  under  their 
arms  and  preoccupied  expressions  in  their 
eyes.  They  kept  a  sharp  look-out  for 
unexpected  manoeuvres  on  the  part  of  the 
clock,  and  had  a  general  air  of  having  to 
be  in  some  place  else  very  soon.  Thorn, 
thrown  on  his  own  resources,  had  a  mild 
experience  of  what  Cambridge  can  be 
without  a  crowd  to  play  with,  and  came 
to  the  conclusion  that,  for  his  own  interest 
and  pleasure  in  life,  he  had  done  wisely 
in  not  incurring  Prescott's  ill-will  and 
startling  the  club  in  the  new  role  of  hard 
hearted,  uncompromising  pedagogue.  The 
insignificant  part  he  played  in  the  lives  of 
the  undergraduates  was  far  from  satisfying ; 
but  it  was  the  sort  of  half  a  loaf  one  does  n't 


282  HARVARD    EPISODES 

willingly  throw  away.  By  the  time  Pres- 
cott  came  back,  Thorn  had  so  wholly  ac 
cepted  his  own  view  of  the  case  that  he 
was  totally  unprepared  for  the  way  in  which 
the  boy  took  the  news  of  his  mark.  He 
met  Prescott  in  the  Yard  the  morning  col 
lege  opened  again,  and  stopped  to  speak 
to  him.  He  would  n't  have  referred  to 
the  examination  —  it  was  enough  to  know 
that  the  little  crisis  had  passed  —  had  not 
Prescott,  blushing  uneasily,  and  looking 
over  Thorn's  shoulder  at  something  across 
the  Yard,  said,  — 

"  I  don't  suppose  you  were  very  much 
surprised  at  the  way  I  did  in  the  exam, 
were  you  ?  " 

"  It  might  have  been  better,"  answered 
Thorn,  seriously.  "  I  hope  you  will  do 
better  the  second  half  year.  But  then, 
it  might  have  been  worse ;  your  mark 
was  C." 

Prescott  looked  at  him,  a  quizzical, 
startled  look ;  and  then  realising  that 
Thorn  was  serious,  that  there  had  been 
nothing  of  the  sarcastic  in  his  tone  or 
manner,  he  laughed  rudely  in  the  in 
structor's  face. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he   said,  as  po- 


A   DEAD    ISSUE  283 

litely  as  he  could,  with  his  eyes  still  full 
of  wonder  and  laughter ;  "  I  had  no  idea 
I  did  so  well."  He  turned  abruptly  and 
walked  away.  Thorn  would  have  felt 
offended,  if  he  had  n't  all  at  once  been 
exceedingly  scared.  Prescott's  manner 
was  extraordinary  for  one  who,  as  a  rule, 
took  everything  as  it  came,  calmly,  un- 
questioningly.  His  face  and  his  laugh 
had  expressed  anything  but  ordinary  sat 
isfaction  at  not  having  failed.  There  was 
something  behind  that  unwonted  aston 
ishment,  something  more  than  mere  sur 
prise  at  having  received  what  was,  after 
all,  a  mediocre  mark.  Thorn  had  mixed 
enough  with  human  kind  to  be  aware  that 
no  man  living  is  ever  very  much  surprised 
in  his  heart  of  hearts  to  have  his  humble 
efforts  in  any  direction  given  grade  C. 
Men  like  Prescott,  who  know  but  little 
of  the  subjects  they  are  examined  in,  usu 
ally  try  to  compose  vague  answers  that 
may,  like  the  oracles,  be  interpreted 
according  to  the  mood  of  him  who  reads 
them.  No  matter  how  general  or  how  few 
Prescott's  answers  had  been —  Thorn 
stopped  suddenly  in  the  middle  of  the 
path.  The  explanation  that  had  come  to 


284  HARVARD    EPISODES 

him  took  hold  of  him,  and  like  a  tight 
ened  rein  drew  him  up  short.  Prescott 
had  written  nothing.  The  pages  of  his 
blue  book  had  left  the  examination-room 
as  virgin  white  as  when  they  had  been 
brought  in  and  placed  on  the  desk  by  the 
proctor.  There  was  no  other  explanation 
possible,  and  the  instructor  tingled  all 
over  with  the  horrid  sensation  of  being 
an  unspeakable  fool.  He  turned  quickly 
to  go  to  University  Hall ;  he  meant  to 
have  Prescott's  mark  changed  at  once. 
But  Prescott,  at  that  moment,  was  bound 
ing  up  the  steps  of  University,  two  at  a 
time.  He  was  undoubtedly  on  his  way 
to  the  Office  to  verify  what  Thorn  had 
just  told  him.  Thorn  walked  rapidly  to 
his  entry  in  Holworthy,  although  he  had 
just  come  from  there.  Then,  with  short, 
nervous  steps,  he  turned  back  again,  left 
the  Yard,  and  hurried  in  aimless  haste  up 
North  Avenue.  He  had  been  an  ass,  —  a 
bungling,  awful  ass, —  he  told  himself  over 
and  over  again.  And  that  was  about  as 
coherent  a  meditation  as  Mr.  Thorn  was 
able  to  indulge  in  for  some  time.  Once 
the  idea  of  pretending  that  he  had  made  a 
mistake  did  suggest  itself  for  a  moment ; 


A   DEAD    ISSUE  285 

but  that  struck  him  as  wild,  impossible. 
It  would  have  merely  resulted  in  forcing 
the  Office  to  regard  him  as  stupid  and 
careless,  and,  should  embarrassing  ques 
tions  arise,  he  no  longer  had  Prescott' s 
book  with  which  to  clear  himself.  More 
than  that,  it  would  give  Prescott  reason 
to  believe  him  an  underhand  trickster. 
The  boy  now  knew  him  to  be  an  example 
of  brazen  partiality ;  there  was  no  point 
in  incurring  even  harsher  criticism.  Thorn 
tried  to  convince  himself,  as  he  hurried 
along  the  straight,  hideous  highway,  that 
perhaps  he  was  wrong,  —  that  Prescott 
had  n't  handed  in  a  perfectly  blank  book. 
If  only  he  could  have  been  sure  of  that, 
he  would  have  risked  the  bland  assertion 
that  the  boy  had  stumbled  on  more  or 
less  intelligent  answers  to  the  examination 
questions,  without  perhaps  knowing  it 
himself.  This,  practically,  was  the  tone 
he  had  meant  to  adopt  all  along.  But 
he  could  n't  be  sure,  and,  unfortunately, 
the  only  person  who  could  give  infor 
mation  as  to  what  was  or  was  n't  in 
the  book,  was  Prescott.  But  Prescott  had 
given  information  of  the  most  direct 
and  convincing  kind.  That  astounded 


286  HARVARD   EPISODES 

look  and  impertinent  laugh  had  as  much 
as  said  :  — 

"  Well,  old  swipe,  what 's  your  little 
game?  What  do  you  expect  to  get  by 
giving  a  good  mark  to  a  man  who  was  n't 
able  to  answer  a  single  question  ?  "  And 
Thorn  knew  it.  At  first  he  was  alarmed 
at  what  he  had  done.  He  could  easily 
see  how  such  a  performance,  if  known, 
might  stand  in  the  light  of  his  reappoint- 
ment  to  teach  in  the  college,  even  if  it 
did  n't  eject  him  at  once.  But  before  he 
returned  to  his  room,  after  walking  miles, 
he  scarcely  knew  where,  fear  had  entirely 
given  way  to  shame,  —  an  over-powering 
shame  that  actually  made  the  man  sick  at 
his  stomach.  It  was  n't  as  if  he  had  com 
mitted  a  man's  fault  in  a  world  of  men 
where  he  would  be  comfortably  judged  and 
damned  by  a  tribunal  he  respected  about 
as  much  as  he  respected  himself.  He  had 
turned  himself  inside  out  before  the  clear 
eyes  of  a  lot  of  boys,  whose  dealings  with 
themselves  and  one  another  were  like  so 
many  shafts  of  white  light  in  an  unrefract- 
ing  medium.  He  had  let  them  know 
what  a  weak,  characterless,  poor  thing  he 
was,  by  holding  himself  open  to  a  bribe, 


A    DEAD    ISSUE  287 

showing  himself  willing  to  exchange,  for 
the  leavings  of  their  friendships,  some 
thing  he  was  bound  in  honour  to  give 
only  when  earned,  prostituting  his  profes 
sion  that  they  might  continue  to  like  him 
a  little,  tolerate  his  presence  among  them. 
And  he  was  one  whom  the  college  had 
honoured  by  judging  worthy  to  stand  up 
before  young  men  and  teach  them.  It 
was  really  very  sickening. 

Thorn  could  n't  bring  himself  to  go 
near  the  club  for  some  days.  He  knew, 
however,  as  well  as  if  he  had  been  present, 
what  had  probably  happened  there  in  the 
meanwhile.  Prescott  had  told  Haydock 
and  Wolcott,  and  very  likely  some  of  the 
others,  the  story  of  his  examination. 
They  had  laughed  at  first,  as  if  it  had 
been  a  good  joke  in  which  Prescott  had 
come  out  decidedly  ahead  ;  then  Haydock 
had  said  something  —  Thorn  could  hear 
him  saying  it  —  that  put  the  matter  in  a 
pitilessly  true  light,  and  the  others  had 
agreed  with  him.  They  usually  did  in 
the  end.  It  took  all  the  "  nerve  "  Thorn 
had  to  show  himself  again. 

But  when  he  had  summoned  up  enough 
courage  to  drop  in  at  the  club  late  one 


288  HARVARD    EPISODES 

evening,  he  found  every  one's  manner 
toward  him  pretty  much  as  it  always  had 
been ;  yet  he  could  tell  instinctively,  as  he 
sat  there,  who  had  and  who  had  n't  heard 
Prescott's  little  anecdote.  Wolcott  knew ; 
he  called  Thorn,  "  Marcus,"  with  unneces 
sary  gusto,  and  once  or  twice  laughed  his 
peculiarly  irritating  laugh  when  there  was 
nothing,  as  far  as  Thorn  could  see,  'to 
laugh  at.  Haydock  knew ;  Thorn  winced 
under  the  cool  speculative  stare  of  the 
senior's  grey  eyes.  Wynne  knew ;  al 
though  Thorn  had  no  more  specific  reason 
for  believing  so,  than  that  the  boy  seemed 
rather  more  formidably  bespectacled  than 
usual.  Several  of  the  younger  fellows 
also  knew  ;  Thorn  knew  that  they  knew  ; 
he  could  n't  stand  it.  When  the  front 
door  slammed  after  him  on  his  way  back 
to  his  room,  he  told  himself  that,  as  far 
as  he  was  concerned,  it  had  slammed  for 
the  last  time. 

He  was  very  nearly  right.  He  would 
have  had  to  be  a  pachyderm  compared  to 
which  the  "  blood  sweating  behemoth  of 
Holy  Writ"  is  a  mere  satin-skinned 
invalid,  in  order  to  have  brazened  out  the 
rest  of  the  year  on  the  old  basis.  He 


A   DEAD   ISSUE  289 

could  n't  go  to  the  club  and  converse  on 
base-ball  and  the  "  musical  glasses/' 
knowing  that  the  fellows  with  whom  he 
was  talking  were  probably  weighing  the 
pros  and  cons  of  taking  his  courses  next 
year,  and  getting  creditable  marks  in  them, 
without  doing  a  stroke  of  work.  He 
could  n't  face  that  "  rough  justice  of 
boys "  that  would  sanction  the  fellows 
making  use  of  him,  and  considering  him  a 
pretty  poor  thing,  at  the  same  time.  So 
he  stayed  away ;  he  did  n't  go  near  the 
place  through  March  and  April  and  May. 
When  his  work  did  n't  call  him  else 
where,  he  stayed  in  his  room  and  at 
tempted  to  live  the  life  of  a  scholar,  —  an 
existence  for  which  he  was  in  every  con 
ceivable  way  unfitted.  For  a  time  he 
studied  hard  out  of  books ;  but  the  most 
profitable  knowledge  he  acquired  in  his 
solitude  was  the  great  deal  he  learned 
about  himself.  He  tried  to  write.  He 
had  always  thought  it  in  him  to  "write 
something,"  if  he  ever  should  find  the 
necessary  leisure.  But  the  play  he  began 
amounted  to  no  more  than  a  harmless 
pretext  for  discoursing  in  a  disillusioned 
strain  on  Life  and  Art  in  the  many  letters 
19 


290  HARVARD    EPISODES 

he  wrote  to  people  he  had  known  abroad, 
—  people,  for  whom,  all  at  once,  he  con 
ceived  a  feeling  of  intimacy  that  no  doubt 
surprised  them  when  they  received  his 
letters.  His  volume  of  essays  was  never 
actually  written,  but  the  fact  that  he  was 
hard  at  work  on  it  served  well  as  an 
answer  to  :  — 

"  Why  the  devil  don't  we  ever  see  you 
at  the  club  nowadays  ?  " 

For  the  fellows  asked  him  that,  of 
course,  when  he  met  them  in  the  Yard  or 
in  the  electric  cars ;  and  Haydock  tarried 
once  or  twice  after  his  lecture  and  hoped 
politely  that  he  was  coming  to  the  next 
club  dinner.  He  was  n't  at  the  next  club 
dinner,  however,  nor  the  next,  nor  the 
next.  Haydock  stopped  reminding  him 
of  them.  The  club  had  gradually  ceased 
to  have  any  but  a  spectacular  interest  for 
Thorn.  His  part  at  a  dinner  there  would 
be  —  and,  since  his  return,  always  had 
been  —  that  of  decorous  audience  in  the 
stalls,  watching  a  sprightly  farce.  The 
club  did  n't  insist  on  an  audience,  so 
Thorn's  meetings  with  its  members  were 
few.  He  saw  Haydock  and  Prescott,  in  a 
purely  official  way,  more  than  any  of 


A   DEAD   ISSUE  291 

them.  Strangely  enough,  Prescott  seemed 
to  be  trying  to  do  better  in  Thorn's 
course.  He  came  to  the  lectures  as  regu 
larly  as  he  had  avoided  them  before  the 
midyears.  He  handed  in  written  work 
of  such  ingenious  unintelligence  that  there 
was  no  question  in  Thorn's  mind  as  to 
the  boy's  having  conscientiously  evolved  it 
unaided.  The  instructor  liked  the  spirit 
of  Prescott's  efforts,  although  it  was  a  per 
petual  "  rubbing  in,"  of  the  memory  of 
his  own  indiscretion  ;  it  displayed  a  pretty 
understanding  of  noblesse  oblige. 

The  second  half  year  was  long  and 
dreary  and  good  for  Thorn.  It  set  him 
down  hard,  —  so  hard  that  when  he  col 
lected  himself  and  began  to  look  about 
him  once  more,  he  knew  precisely  where 
he  was  —  which  was  something  he  had  n't 
known  until  then.  He  was  thirty-two 
years  old ;  he  looked  thirty-five,  and  he 
felt  a  hundred,  to  begin  with.  He  was  n't 
an  undergraduate,  and  he  had  n't  been 
one  for  a  good  many  years.  He  still  felt 
that  he  loved  youth  and  sympathised  with 
its  every  phase, —  from  its  mindless  gam- 
bolings  to  its  preposterous  maturity. 
But  he  knew  now  that  it  was  with  the 


292  HARVARD    EPISODES 

love  and  sympathy  of  one  who  had  lost 
it.  He  had  learned,  too,  that  when  it 
goes,  it  bids  one  a  cavalier  adieu,  and  takes 
with  it  what  one  has  come  to  regard  as 
one's  rights,  —  like  a  saucy  house-maid 
departing  with  the  spoons.  He  knew 
that  he  had  no  rights ;  he  had  forfeited 
them  by  losing  some  of  his  hair.  He 
would  n't  get  any  of  them  back  again 
until  he  had  lost  all  of  it.  He  was  the 
merest  speck  on  the  horizon  of  the  fel 
lows  whom  he  had,  earlier  in  the  year, 
tried  to  know  on  a  basis  of  equality,  —  a 
speck  too  far  away,  too  microscopic  even 
to  annoy  them.  If  he  had  only  known 
it  all  along,  he  told  himself,  how  differ 
ent  his  year  might  have  been.  He 
would  n't  have  squandered  the  first  four 
months  of  it,  for  one  thing,  in  a  stupid 
insistence  on  a  relation  that  must  of 
necessity  be  artificial — unsatisfying.  He 
would  n't  have  spent  the  last  five  of  it 
in  coming  to  his  senses.  He  would  n't 
have  misused  all  of  it  in  burning  —  or 
at  least  in  allowing  to  fall  into  a  precari 
ous  state  of  unrepair  —  the  bridges  that 
led  back  to  the  friends  of  his  own  age 
and  time. 


A   DEAD   ISSUE  293 

"  I  have  learned  more  than  I  have 
taught,  this  year,"  thought  Thorn. 

To-day  was  Thorn's  birthday.  Im 
pelled  by  a  tender,  tepid  feeling  of  self- 
pity  the  instructor  had  come  once  more 
to  the  club  to  look  at  it  and  say  good-bye 
before  leaving  Cambridge.  He  would 
have  liked  to  breakfast  on  the  piazza  and 
suffer  luxuriously  alone.  But  just  at  the 
moment  he  was  beginning  to  feel  most 
deeply.  Sears  Wolcott  appeared  at  the 
open  French  window,  and  said  he  was 
"  Going  to  eat  out  there  in  the  landscape 
too."  So  Thorn,  in  spite  of  himself,  had 
to  revive. 

"  What  did  you  think  of  the  Pudding 
show  last  night  ? "  began  Sears.  Talk 
with  him  usually  meant  leading  questions 
and  their  simplest  answers. 

"  It  was  very  amusing  —  very  well 
done,"  said  Thorn.  What  was  the  use, 
he  asked  himself,  of  drawing  a  cow-eyed 
stare  from  Wolcott  by  saying  what  he 
really  thought  —  that  Strawberry  Night 
at  the  Pudding  had  been  "  exuberant," 
"noisy,"  "intensely  young." 

"  I   saw  you   after  it  was  over,"  Sears 


294  HARVARD    EPISODES 

went  on  ;  "  why  did  n't  you  buck  up  with 
the  old  grads  around  the  piano  ?  You 
looked  lonely." 

"  I  was  lonely/'  answered  Thorn,  truth 
fully  this  time. 

"  Where  were  your  classmates  ?  There 
was  a  big  crowd  out." 

"  My  classmates  ?  Oh,  they  were  there, 
I  suppose.  I  have  n't  seen  much  of 
them  this  year." 

Wolcott's  next  question  was  :  — 

"  Why  the  devil  can't  we  have  better 
strawberries  at  this  club,  I  wonder? 
Where 's  the  granulated  sugar  ?  They 
know  I  never  eat  this  damned  face 
powder  on  anything."  He  called  loudly 
for  the  steward,  and  Thorn  went  on  with 
his  breakfast  in  silence.  After  Sears  had 
been  appeased  with  granulated  sugar,  he 
asked  :  — 

"  Going  to  be  here  next  year  ?  " 

"  I  've  been  reappointed ;  but  I  think 
I  shall  live  in  town.  Why  do  you  ask?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing  —  I  was  thinking  I  might 
take  your  courses.  What  mark  is  Pres- 
cott  going  to  get  for  the  year  ? " 

Thorn  looked  up  to  meet  Wolcott's 
eyes  unflinchingly  ;  but  the  boy  was  deeply 


A   DEAD    ISSUE  295 

absorbed  in  studying  the  little  air  bubbles 
on  the  surface  of  his  coffee. 

"  I  don't  know  what  mark  he  '11  get. 
I  have  n't  looked  at  his  book  yet,"  said 
Thorn.  Sears  remarked  "  Oh  !  "  and 
laughed  as  he  submerged  the  bubbles  with 
a  spoon.  It  was  unlike  him  not  to  have 
said,  "  You  do  go  through  the  formality 
of  reading  his  books  then  ?  " 

Prescott  and  Wynne  joined  them. 
They  chattered  gaily  with  Wolcott  about 
nothing  out  there  on  the  piazza,  and 
watched  the  slim  lady  on  the  other  side 
of  the  nodding  lilac  bushes  cut  nastur 
tiums.  Thorn  listened  to  them,  and 
looked  at  them,  and  liked  them ;  but  he 
couldn't  be  one  of  them,  even  for  the 
moment.  He  could  n't  babble  unpre-  . 
meditatedly  about  nothing,  because  he 
had  forgotten  how  it  was  done.  So,  in  a 
little  while,  he  got  up  to  leave  them.  He 
had  to  mark  some  examination  books  and 
pack  his  trunks  and  go  abroad,  he  told 
them.  He  said  good-bye  to  Prescott  and 
Wolcott  and  Wynne  and  some  others 
who  had  come  in  while  they  were  at  break 
fast,  and  hoped  they  would  have  "  a  good 
summer."  They  hoped  the  same  to  him. 


296  HARVARD   EPISODES 

As  he  strolled  back  to  his  room  with  the 
sounds  of  their  voices  in  his  ears,  but  with 
no  memory  of  what  they  had  been  saying, 
he  wondered  if,  after  all,  they  had  n't  from 
the  very  first  bored  him  just  a  little;  if 
his  unhappiness  —  his  sense  of  failure 
when  he  talked  to  young  people —  did  n't 
come  from  the  fact  that  they  commended 
themselves  to  his  affections  rather  than 
to  his  intellect.  Thorn  was  a  vain  man 
in  a  quiet  way. 

Prescott's  final  examination  book  cer 
tainly  did  n't  commend  itself  to  his  intel 
lect.  It  was  long,  and  conscientious,  and 
quite  incorrect  from  cover  to  cover.  The 
instructor  left  it  until  the  last.  He  al 
most  missed  his  train  in  deciding  upon 
its  mark. 


THE   CLASS    DAY   IDYL 

OF  course  there  is  no  such  thing  as 
the  "  typical  Harvard  man,"  al 
though  it  interests  —  or  irritates  —  people 
who  did  n't  go  to  Harvard  to  believe 
every  now  and  then  that  they  have  dis 
covered  him.  If  a  well-dressed  youth  with 
a  broad  A,  and  an  abnormal  ignorance  of 
the  life  practical,  appears  in  a  Western  town, 
the  business  man  from  whom  he  seeks 
employment,  after  sounding  the  profound- 
est  depths  of  his  incapacity,  amuses  the 
family  circle  at  dinner  by  telling  of  the 
call  he  had  from  a  "typical  Harvard  man/' 
If  a  girl  sits  out  a  dance  with  a  fellow  who 
does  n't  give  her  the  look  of  a  slightly  be 
wildered  cow  when  she  slings  a  little  Swin 
burne  at  him,  but  who  lets  fly  the  tail  end 
of  a  Rossetti  sonnet  in  return,  closely  fol 
lowed  by  a  gem  or  two  purloined  here  and 
there  from  Henry  James,  she  thinks 
she  has  met  another  of  those  "typical 
Harvard  men."  The  young  American 
travelling  abroad  who  displays  a  decent 


298  HARVARD    EPISODES 

reticence  when  compatriots  of  whom  he 
never  has  heard,  "  put  their  paws  on  his 
shoulders  and  lap  his  face/'  is  described 
in  many  terms  —  that  of  "  the  typical  Har 
vard  man "  coming  last.  This  strange, 
mythical  being  is  all  things  to  all  men  — 
who  are  not  Harvard  men ;  but  it  is 
worthy  of  note  that  in  the  various  aspects 
in  which  he  is  apperceived,  he  manages  to 
repeat  certain  distinguished  traits  that  even 
the  enemy  is  bound  —  often  secretly  —  to 
admire.  No  one,  for  instance,  marks  as 
typical  of  Harvard,  a  man  who  is  ill- 
dressed,  or  ill-bred;  he  is  usually  good 
looking.  So  if  the  typical  Harvard  man, 
like  the  sea-serpent,  continues  to  agitate 
the  provinces  from  time  to  time,  one  is 
thankful  that  whatever  his  disguise  may 
be  for  the  moment,  he  is  always  a  distinctly 
presentable  young  person. 

Beverly  Beverly  of  the  graduating  class 
was  often  thought  by  outsiders  to  be  of 
the  type  to  which  most  Harvard  men 
belonged.  He  was  a  very  well  arranged 
young  gentleman  who  wore  glasses.  He 
always  seemed  to  have  plenty  of  money ; 
he  lived  on  the  ground  floor  of  Beck 
Hall,  and  had  a  servant. 


THE    CLASS    DAY   IDYL        299 

He  lived  in  Beck  rather  than  in  Claverly, 
because,  for  some  reason  or  other.  Beck 
is  not  annually  overrun  by  a  crowd  of 
sporty  freshmen  just  released  from  high- 
church  fitting-schools.  Furthermore,  al 
though  surrounded  in  Beck  by  fellow- 
students  whom  he  felt  it  possible  to  know, 
he  didn't  happen  to  know  any  of  them 
more  intimately  than  a  polite  nod  of  the 
head  would  imply.  So  when  he  retired 
to  his  own  room  he  was  spared  the  noc 
turnal  visitations  and  talk-to-deaths  of  a 
more  populous  building. 

Beverly  was  intelligent,  reserved,  and 
"set  in  his  ways."  He  had  been  in  a 
great  many  places,  and  had  met  a  great 
many  people.  By  the  end  of  his  senior 
year  he  preferred  to  spend  his  time  in 
doing  nothing  at  all,  rather  than  in  doing 
something  that  did  n't  interest  him  exceed 
ingly.  As  he  had  gone  to  Harvard,  people 
said  he  was  a  typical  product  of  that  in 
stitution.  They  couldn't  have  said  this 
if  his  father  had  seen  fit  to  send  him 
to  a  business  college  to  learn  how  to  audit 
accounts,  and  make  an  American  eagle 
with  a  fist  full  of  thunderbolts  in  two  pen- 
strokes.  But  Beverly  would  have  been 


300  HARVARD   EPISODES 

very  much  the  same  sort  of  person  after 
all,  only  perhaps  not  as  agreeable  as  he 
actually  was. 

Early  in  his  college  career,  Beverly  had 
identified  himself  with  the  few  fellows  he 
cared  to  know.  Since  then,  his  little  circle 
of  intimate  friends  had,  if  anything,  be 
come  smaller. 

When  Class  Day  —  his  Class  Day  — 
began  to  be  talked  about,  Beverly,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  was  asked  to  spread 
at  Beck.  His  decision  not  to  spread 
there  —  nor  anywhere  —  was  as  much  a 
matter  of  course.  He  did  n't  enjoy  Class 
Day,  he  said  ;  it  was  always  unbearably 
warm;  it  was  impossible  on  that  day  to 
procure  nourishment  that  was  n't  fluid  or 
semi-fluid, — punch,  chicken-salad,  or  ice 
cream  ;  and  the  vast  armies  of  women, 
from  Heaven  knows  where,  who  came 
early  and  stayed  until  they  were  put  out, 
managed  to  kill  the  sentiment  of  the  day 
for  him,  he  said,  even  as  they  exterminated 
the  grass  in  the  College  Yard. 

"  I  sha'n't  even  be  in  Cambridge," 
Beverly  declared  at  breakfast,  the  morning 
before  the  great  day. 

"  You    really    ought    to    have    spread, 


THE    CLASS   DAY    IDYL        301 

you  know/'  said  Billy  Fields.  "  It 's  the 
only  way  we  have  of  being  nice  to  people 
in  town  who've  been  nice  to  us." 

"You  forget  that  Bevy  considers  him 
self  perfectly  square  with  everybody. 
He  went  to  their  entertainments,"  said 
Haydock. 

"  The  truth  of  the  matter  is,  Bevy 's 
afraid  somebody  will  propose  to  him,  and 
he  is  too  polite  to  refuse.  Those  Boston 
girls  are  so  impulsive!"  suggested  Wynne. 

"  Maybe  he  would  n't  look  well  in  a 
cap  and  gown,"  added  another. 

"It's  foolish  not  to  go  to  Class  Day," 
said  Prescott,  for  whom  the  universe  was 
conveniently  divided  into  things  that  were 
"  foolish  "  and  things  that  were  n't. 

"  He's  afraid  that  if  he  stays,  he  might 
be  bored,"  chimed  in  Haydock,  again. 
"Somebody  might  ask  him  whether  college 
men  did  n't  have  a  c  perfectly  lovely  time/ 
and  which  building  Austin  Hall  was.  Of 
course  he  does  n't  know." 

"  I  don't,"  admitted  Beverly,  serenely. 

"  He  'd  rather  sit  in  his  own  room  on  a 
dais  all  day,  and  have  Michael  fan  him, 
while  three  black  slaves  at  his  feet  try  to 
guess  the  secret  of  his  ennui,"  continued 


302  HARVARD    EPISODES 

Haydock.     "  Own  up,  Bevy  —  are  n't  you 
afraid  of  being  bored  ?  " 

"  Why,  of  course,"  answered  Beverly. 
"  That 's  my  constant  fear  ;  and  you  idiots 
sometimes  make  me  think  that  it  is  n't  an 
altogether  groundless  one." 

"  To  what  do  we  owe  the  honour  of 
your  presence  at  breakfast  this  morning  ?  " 
asked  Wynne,  bowing  low.  Beverly  usually 
breakfasted  at  ten.  It  was  then  half-past 
eight. 

"  To  an  examination  in  pre-Christian 
Hebrew  literature,  —  nothing  else  I  assure 
you."  Beverly  did  n't  look  up  from  the 
morning  paper  he  was  trying  to  read. 

"  And  we  're  just  a  little  peevish  at 
having  to  stay  for  it,  instead  of  get 
ting  away  five  days  earlier  —  are  n't 
we  ?  " 

To  this  Beverly  paid  no  attention  what 
ever,  but  rang  for  the  steward  and  asked 
him  to  telephone  to  Foster  to  send  round 
Lloyd  the  cabman  at  once.  It  looked 
like  rain,  and  Beverly's  examination  that 
morning  was  over  in  the  Museum  —  at 
least  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away.  Billy  Fields 
listened  to  the  order,  and  then  called 
out :  — 


THE    CLASS    DAY   IDYL        303 

"  Oh,  I  say  there,  look  out  for  Bev 
erly  Beverly  ;  he  's  horribly  haughty  this 
morning,  ha,  ha  !"  Billy  could  exaggerate 
Beverly's  accent,  and  sound  startlingly  like 
the  original.  He  could  also  imitate  his 
"  Who  the  devil  are  you  ? "  expression 
and  his  walk.  These  things  he  proceeded 
to  do  around  the  breakfast-table  and  out 
into  the  hall,  until  the  front  door  slammed 
behind  him.  He  lingered  on  the  street 
outside  in  order  to  stand  in  the  gutter  and 
salute  when  Beverly  drove  away  in  his 
cab. 

Beverly  had  watched  Billy's  little  per 
formance  with  dispassionate  interest,  and 
remarked  before  returning  to  his  news 
paper  :  — 

"  He  's  really  talented,  in  a  singularly 
offensive  way."  But  the  words  sounded 
amiable  rather  than  otherwise,  for,  on  the 
whole,  Beverly  liked  to  be  teased  by  the 
fellows.  Some  of  them  were  clever  at  it 
—  Billy  especially.  It  pleased  Beverly 
to  think  it  was  the  little  penalty  he  paid 
for  being  mature  enough  to  know  defi 
nitely  what  did  and  did  n't  amuse  him, 
and  to  act  accordingly.  He  was  sincere 
in  his  dislike  of  Class  Day,  and  did  n't 


304  HARVARD    EPISODES 

intend  to  go  near  it.  He  objected  to 
having  the  Yard  enclosed  in  Christmas- 
trees  and  festooned  with  paper  lanterns, — 
to  its  cc  pretending  to  be  a  beer  garden 
with  Hamlet  left  out."  He  considered  it 
undignified  to  throw  open  the  University 
to  a  rabble  of  women,  to  invite  them  to 
"kick  up  their  heels"  in  Memorial  Hall, 
and  see  them  described  in  the  evening 
papers  as  "  Harvard's  Fair  Invaders." 
During  breakfast,  he  enlarged  on  these 
views  to  a  scornful  audience  that  finally 
arose  in  its  might,  tore  off  his  necktie, 
ruined  his  coiffure,  threw  him  out  of  the 
club  into  his  cab,  and  then  retreated  and 
locked  itself  in.  Even  this  did  n't  make 
Beverly  really  angry,  he  was  used  to  differ 
ences  of  opinion  followed  by  popular 
uprisings. 

He  had  intended  to  say  good-bye  to 
Cambridge  the  next  morning,  and  take  the 
one-o'clock  train  for  New  York.  But 
the  next  morning,  after  breakfasting  at  the 
Holly  Tree,  —  there  is  no  place  else  to 
breakfast  on  Class  Day  except  the  Oak 
Grove,  and  Beverly  disliked  the  high 
stools  of  that  place  and  the  condescend 
ing  services  of  the  dethroned  empresses 


THE    CLASS   DAY    IDYL        305 

who  wait  on  one  there,  —  he  found  it 
was  too  late  to  catch  the  one  o'clock 
without  more  effort  than  he  was  able 
to  make  on  so  warm  a  day.  So,  in  a 
moment  of  tolerance  induced  perhaps  by 
the  realisation  that  this  was,  after  all, 
"  good-bye,"  he  strolled  over  to  the 
Yard. 

The  exercises  in  Sanders  Theatre  had 
just  ended,  and  the  "  fair  invaders  "  were 
beginning  to  invade  by  the  hundreds. 
They  streamed  in  brilliant  procession 
along  the  walks,  and  swarmed  over  the 
shady  lawns,  —  glorified  groups  of  summer 
millinery,  trailing  after  them  the  pale  pink 
odour  of  sachet  powder  and  blond  hair. 
They  took  possession  of  the  parapet  of 
Matthews,  the  chairs  and  benches  and 
doorsteps  in  front  of  Hollis  and  Stoughton 
and  Holworthy,  stretching  the  length  of 
the  Yard  in  a  many  coloured  border  that 
resembled  the  horticultural  orgies  of  the 
Public  Garden.  Celestial  companies  of 
maidens  in  diaphanous  drapery  floated 
past  Beverly,  in  the  wake  of  panting  but 
determined  ladies  richly  upholstered. 

"  '  On,  on  to  the  Pudding  spread, 

My  daughters  must  be  —  shall  be  fed,'  " 

20 


306  HARVARD    EPISODES 

the  leaders  seemed  to  say,  as  they  elbowed 
through  the  crowd  at  the  exit.  Seniors  in 
fluttering  gowns  and  wilted  collars,  with 
proud  mothers  and  satisfied  fathers  and 
eager  sisters  and  observant  aunts,  sen 
iors  with  one  another,  and  lonely,  un 
attached  seniors  Beverly  had  never  seen 
before,  who  looked  as  if  they  did  n't  quite 
know  whether  they  were  enjoying  them 
selves  or  not,  sauntered  by,  mopping 
their  foreheads.  The  Yard  was  alive,  not 
with  the  customary  sprinkling  of  business 
like  young  men  hastening,  note-book  in 
hand,  to  lectures,  but  with  a  riot  of 
colour,  a  swishing  of  skirts,  a  vague, 
babbling  gaiety  that  rose  in  places  to 
an  acute  trebleness.  And  there  was  the 
smell  of  festivity  in  the  hot  air,  —  a 
smell  of  pine  branches  and  Chinese 
lanterns. 

Beverly  walked  once  around  the  Yard, 
staring  severely  at  the  various  factors  of  the 
gigantic  picnic,  and  was  passing  Matthews 
on  his  way  out,  when  a  sudden  gust  of 
wind  blew  a  newspaper  from  the  lap  of  a 
woman  seated  on  the  steps  of  the  building. 
He  strolled  after  it  until  it  stopped  flap 
ping  over  the  grass,  picked  it  up,  and,  hat 


THE   CLASS    DAY    IDYL        307 

in  hand,  returned  it  to  its  owner.  He 
had  no  difficulty  in  identifying  the  lady, 
although  she  was  one  of  many  resting  on 
the  steps,  for  she  waved  the  remaining 
sheets  of  the  paper  at  him  as  he  ap 
proached,  and  smiled  largely. 

"  I    never    was     so    embarrassed,"    she 
declared,  beaming  up  at  him. 

"  There    is    no    need    to    be,    I    assure 
you,"  said  Beverly,  with  a  little  bow. 

"  Oh,  but  I  am  —  you  know  I  am," 
she  continued  archly.  Beverly  .would  have 
walked  on,  had  not  the  strange  woman 
suddenly  leaned  forward,  —  still  looking 
up  at  him,  —  with  the  air  of  one  about  to 
impart  a  confidence.  The  action  would 
have  made  retreat  at  that  moment  rather 
rude,  or  at  least  abrupt,  so  the  senior  hesi 
tated  deferentially,  and  returned  her  look 
by  one  of  inquiry. 

She  was  a  stout,  middle-aged  woman 
with  short,  curly,  dark  hair.  Her  up 
turned  face  was  round,  red,  unlined,  and 
perspiring.  She  wore  a  black-satin  skirt 
under  which  Beverly  could  see  her  low 
shoes  of  yellow  leather  resting  firmly,  with 
their  toes  well  turned  out,  on  the  step 
below.  Where  black  skirt  and  white 


308  HARVARD    EPISODES 

linen  shirt-waist  met,  a  crimson  belt  cir 
cumscribed  her  buxomness  as  with  a  band 
of  flame.  Under  one  of  her  chins  perched 
a  crimson  cravat  of  another  shade ;  and  a 
crimson  ribbon  repeated  the  note  in  a  tiny 
sailor  hat  that  was  almost  upside  down 
with  coquetry.  On  her  lap  lay  a  red  fan 
of  the  circular  kind  that  appears  and 
disappears  at  the  pull  of  a  silken  cord. 
Beverly  considered  her  absurd. 

"  I  just  know  you  're  a  Harvard  man," 
she  said  engagingly.  "  Now  are  n't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  am,"  admitted  Beverly. 

"Oh,  I'm  so  glad!"  she  clapped  her 
hands  with  all  the  glee  of  a  little  girl  of 
fifty.  "  You  can  help  me  —  you  can 
explain  everything ;  the  newspapers  take 
so  much  for  granted."  Beverly  looked 
a  trifle  wild. 

"Now  here's  a  Yard  ticket,"  she  fum 
bled  a  moment  among  black-satin  intrica 
cies,  "  and  here  's  a  Tree  ticket,  and  here 's 
one  for  Memorial  Hall.  I  have  an  invi 
tation  for  Beck  Hall,  too,"  she  added, 
drawing  out  some  envelopes.  "  Oh,  and 
this  is  my  ticket  to  Poughkeepsie  !  "  She 
unfolded  a  long  strip  of  green  pasteboard. 
"  I  'm  going  to  be  at  that  race ;  oh,  I  'm 


THE   CLASS    DAY    IDYL        309 

going  to  be  there  !  You  see  —  I  'm  a 
regular  Harvard  girl." 

"  And  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?  "  asked 
Beverly,  politely. 

"  I  hate  to  trouble  you/'  she  said,  al 
most  diffidently ;  "  but  I  'm  so  afraid  of 
missing  something.  If  you  would  explain 
the  tickets  to  me  —  tell  me  of  the  gates  to 
which  they  are  the  key ;  if  you  would  be 
so  good  —  and  I  know  you  will  be.  Ah 
— je  connais  mes  ames."  Her  eyelids 
fluttered  up,  then  down.  She  pressed  the 
tickets  into  Beverly's  hand.  The  senior, 
somewhat  astonished,  explained  their  re 
spective  uses  as  rapidly  as  possible. 

"And  now  the  invitation  to  Beck 
Hall ;  you  've  forgotten  that,"  she  said, 
with  a  little  side  glance  of  reproach. 

"  Why,  it 's  just  an  invitation  to  a 
spread,  —  a  sort  of  garden  party.  You 
go  there  any  time  after  the  Tree  exer 
cises,"  explained  Beverly. 

"Ah  —  but  that's  not  all,"  said  the 
lady. 

"  If  she  only  would  n't  look  at  me  that 
way,"  thought  Beverly. 

"  I  have  a  cousin,"  she  went  on,  "  the 
dearest  boy  in  all  the  world.  Look  — 


310  HARVARD   EPISODES 

this  is  he."  Beverly,  with  a  slight  feeling 
of  apprehension,  followed  her  stubby  fin 
ger  down  the  first  column  of  names  en 
graved  on  the  invitation,  until  it  stopped 
at  "  William  Paxton  Fields." 

"  Do  you  know  him  ?  "  she  asked. 
Beverly  wavered  a  moment ;  he  felt  what 
was  coming. 

"  Yes,  I  know  Fields,"  he  said,  restrain 
ing  a  panic-stricken  impulse  to  dart  away 
in  the  crowd. 

"  I  felt  that  you  did  —  something  told 
me.  He  's  a  dear  boy,  is  n't  he  ?  " 

"  He 's  a  very  good  fellow,"  replied 
Beverly. 

"  Ah,  I  like  that,"  she  said  heartily, 
straightening  her  dumpy  shoulders  and 
expanding  her  chest  with  enthusiasm.  "  I 
love  the  way  you  great,  loyal  college  men 
stand  up  for  each  other.  It's  beautiful. 
Now  I  must  find  him,"  she  went  on 
rapidly,  with  a  keen  sense  of  opportunity, 
"and  tell  him  I'm  here  —  give  myself 
over  to  him.  He  lives — where  does  he 
live  ?  "  For  his  own  sake,  Beverly  would 
have  cheerfully  told  her  that  he  did  n't 
know,  or  that  Billy  had  moved,  or  that 
he  did  n't  have  a  room  at  all ;  but  he  hesi- 


THE   CLASS    DAY   IDYL        311 

tated  to  separate  Billy  from  his  family, 
when  a  word  might  unite  them,  so  he 
said  :  — 

"  He  rooms  in  Claverly  Hall ;  but  I 
doubt  if  you  can  find  him  there  now/' 

"  But  we  can  try,"  she  exclaimed  with 
eager  optimism.  "  Which  is  Claverly  ?  " 
she  looked  blandly  up  and  down  the  Yard. 

"  It  is  n't  here ;  it 's  down  there  on 
Mt.  Auburn  Street."  Beverly  indicated 
the  direction. 

"  Not  on  the  c  campus  '  ?  Oh,  dear  !  " 
said  Billy's  cousin.  There  was  dismay 
in  her  tone  and  on  her  broad  disc  of  a 
face. 

"No;  but  it's  very  easy  to  find.  Any 
body  will  show  you,"  Beverly  answered. 
He  thought  it  was  an  excellent  moment 
in  which  to  bow  himself  away. 

"  Anybody  ?  "  she  said  softly,  transfix 
ing  him  with  one  of  her  oblique  leers. 
She  was  a  terribly  arch  woman. 

Her  kinship  with  Fields,  and  the  as- 
sumable  respectability  that  went  with  it, 
together  with  her  abandoned  trust  in  Har 
vard  chivalry,  did  n't  make  her  any  ]  ess  awful 
in  Beverly's  eyes.  They  were  merely  the 
complement  of  her  already  well-developed 


312  HARVARD    EPISODES 

genius  for  imposition ;  they  made  her  impos 
sible  to  evade,  —  a  something  inevitable. 

"  I  'm  sure  he  won't  be  there  now," 
repeated  Beverly,  helplessly.  "  We  're  all 
so  busy  to-day  ;  we  have  n't  a  moment 
to  ourselves,"  he  added  furtively. 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know,"  assented  Billy's 
cousin  ;  "  but  it 's  my  only  way  to  find  him 
before  evening.  I  can  leave  my  card  and 
arrange  a  rendezvous.  I  would  n't  inter 
fere  with  his  plans  for  the  world ;  I  have 
a  horror  of  being  a  burden.  I  'm  such  a 
perfectly  independent  little  body  !  "  She 
arose  and  gave  Beverly  the  fan  with  the 
gesture  of  a  lady  fair  bestowing  her  col 
ours  upon  a  knight  who  yearned.  "Is  it 
far  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  No,"  answered  Beverly,  shortly.  "  It 
is  n't  far." 

"Then  let  us  saunter — oh,  so  slowly 
—  and  drink  it  in."  She  closed  her  eyes 
and  breathed  as  one  overcome  by  the 
sensuous  beauty  of  the  surroundings. 

"  I  'm  afraid  I  shall  have  to  hurry," 
said  the  senior,  with  unmistakable  decision. 
He  looked  at  his  watch  ostentatiously. 
'  I  'm  going  away,  and  I  have  to  pack." 
She  ignored  the  suggestion. 


THE    CLASS    DAY   IDYL        313 

"Which  of  these  mellow,  world-old 
buildings  do  you  live  in  ? "  she  asked 
dreamily,  stopping  in  the  path. 

cc  I  don't  live  in  any  of  them,"  said 
Beverly.  He  was  extremely  angry. 

"  Recluse,"  she  murmured. 

It  was  irritating  enough,  Beverly  thought, 
to  be  inveigled  into  towing  the  fatuous 
old  frump  through  the  public  streets; 
but  the  thought  that  his  acquaintance  with 
the  lady  might  not  end  at  Claverly  was 
maddening.  Billy  would  n't  be  there,  of 
course ;  and  it  was  impossible  to  put  an 
unattached  female  cousin  into  his  room 
and  leave  her.  That  particular  quarter  of 
town  was  not,  as  a  rule,  the  most  decorous 
on  Class  Day.  There  is  always  more  or 
less,  what  is  technically  known  as  "  trouble  " 
in  Claverly  and  its  vicinity  on  Class  Day 
afternoon.  It  takes  the  harmless  form 
of  young  men  with  wisps  of  pink  mos 
quito  netting  in  their  buttonholes,  to 
whom  the  world  for  the  time  being  is  not 
such  a  dreary  place  after  all;  or  perhaps 
it  merely  consists  of  innocently  garbed 
swimming  parties  running  foot  races  down 
the  long  corridors  on  their  way  to  the 
tank.  But  at  any  rate  Beverly  hesitated 


314  HARVARD    EPISODES 

to  turn  Billy's  cousin  adrift  there.  It 
would  be  difficult  to  explain  his  having 
done  so  to  Billy.  He  meant  to  aban 
don  her  somewhere  and  quickly,  but  not 
there. 

They  passed  out  of  the  crowded  Yard. 
In  his  earnest  desire  to  reach  Claverly 
without  delay,  Beverly  thoughtlessly  turned 
into  Holyoke  Street.  It  was  thronged 
with  carriages  and  summery  looking  girls 
making  for  a  common  objective  point, 
half-way  down  on  the  left-hand  side.  He 
did  n't  realise  his  mistake  in  having  chosen 
that  particular  route  until  it  was  too  late. 

"  How  allegro  life  is,"  remarked  his 
companion. 

"  It 's  very  warm,"  answered  Beverly, 
increasing  his  pace. 

"  Cynic,"  was  the  reply.  Beverly  stared 
straight  ahead,  but  he  knew  the  sort  of  ex 
pression  that  had  accompanied  the  im 
putation. 

"  They  all  seem  to  be  going  in  there," 
said  Billy's  cousin,  stopping  on  the  curb 
stone  opposite  the  Pudding  building. 
"  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  That  ?  Oh,  somebody's  spread,  I  sup 
pose."  Beverly  went  on  a  step  or  two  ; 


THE    CLASS    DAY   IDYL        315 

but  his  companion  did  n't  follow  him. 
Just  then  a  lady  with  two  girls  bowed  to 
him  from  a  victoria  waiting  its  turn  across 
the  street. 

"  Are  n't  you  coming  in  ?  "  she  called. 
Beverly  went  over  to  speak  to  them.  The 
girls  were  exquisite  creatures ;  he  would 
have  given  his  soul  at  that  moment  to  be 
able  to  leave  his  burden  on  the  sidewalk 
opposite  and  join  them.  But  he  was 
"  catching  a  train,"  he  explained.  When 
he  turned  away,  with  the  feeling  of  one 
about  to  resume  a  millstone,  Billy's  cousin 
was  where  he  had  left  her.  As  he  ap 
proached,  she  lifted  a  forefinger  to  her 
lips,  raised  her  eyes  mysteriously,  and 
stood  for  some  moments  in  what  she 
probably  fancied  was  the  attitude  of  a 
listening  faun. 

"  Music,"  she  whispered. 
"  I  shall  certainly  strangle  this  woman  be 
fore  we  reach  Claverly,"  thought  Beverly. 
"  There  is  an  orchestra  inside,"  he  said. 
"  Oh,  I  could  just  die  waltzing !  "  she 
exclaimed.     She  crossed  the  street,  undu 
lating  ecstatically  to  the  music  that  came 
gaily   through    the   open  doors  and  win 
dows  of  the  Pudding. 


3i6  HARVARD    EPISODES 

"  I  really  must  hurry,"  said  Beverly, 
very  firmly. 

"  Just  a  moment,"  she  pleaded,  resting 
her  hand  on  his  arm  and  swaying  ponder 
ously  from  side  to  side  in  time  to  the 
waltz. 

"  Could  anything  have  been  more 
odious  ?  "  Beverly  said  to  the  fellows  after 
wards,  when  trying  to  explain  his  presence 
in  Cambridge  on  Class  Day.  "The 
Pudding  steps  —  the  whole  street  — 
swarming  with  people  on  their  way  to  the 
spread ;  a  line  of  carriages,  a  block  long, 
full  of  girls  I  knew,  — girls  I  knew ;  and 
I,  standing  there,  a  ridiculous  little  red 
fan  in  my  hand  —  the  thing  popped  out, 
and  I  could  n't  pull  it  back  again  —  with 
a  moon-faced  tub  of  a  woman  I  'd  never 
seen  before,  rigged  out  in  a  crimson  har 
ness,  hanging  on  to  me  as  if  she  Jd 
brought  me  into  the  world,  and  doing 
some  sort  of  a  can-can  on  the  sidewalk, 
like  a  hypnotised  old  cobra." 

"Let's  go  in,"  pleaded  Billy's  cousin, 
impulsively.  Beverly  drew  away  from 
her. 

"  It 's  simply  impossible,"  he  said 
sternly.  "The  spread  is  a  private  one, 


THE   CLASS    DAY    IDYL        317 

and  I  have  n't  even  my  own  ticket  here ; 
I  Ve  lost  it." 

The  note  of  irritation  and  despair  in 
his  voice  was  overheard  by  a  fellow  in  a 
cap  and  gown  who  had  come  up  behind 
them  just  then,  on  his  way  into  the 
Pudding. 

"  That  does  n't  make  any  difference, 
Beverly,"  he  said,  touching  his  cap  to  the 
lady ;  "  you  can  come  in  with  me  all 
right."  Beverly  turned  in  anguish.  It 
was  Freddy  Benson,  who  was  helping  to 
give  the  spread.  Billy's  cousin  became 
strangely  radiant ;  she  darted  a  glance  at 
Freddy  that  impaled  him.  Beverly,  she 
not  only  impaled,  but  crucified. 

"  I  have  n't  time  to  go  in,"  said  Beverly 
abruptly.  He  was  beginning  to  look 
flushed  and  obstinate.  Freddy  opened 
his  eyes  in  polite  astonishment ;  he  was 
afraid  he  had  intruded  upon  a  family 
quarrel.  The  Millstone  edged  half  way 
up  the  Pudding  steps  and  pouted  coyly. 
They  stood  there  a  moment,  —  Beverly, 
dangerous,  explosive ;  Freddy,  mystified 
and  uncomfortable ;  the  Millstone,  with 
her  "lady  fair"  expression  once  more, 
as  if  waiting  expectantly  for  one  of  the 


3i8  HARVARD    EPISODES 

stalwart  males  to  defeat  the  other  in 
mortal  combat  and  claim  her  for  his  own. 
People  brushed  by  them  —  people  Beverly 
knew  —  with  glances  of  concern. 

"  You  might  just  as  well  come  in,  you 
know,"  said  Freddy,  pacifically. 

"  You  don't  understand,"  answered 
Beverly,  angrily. 

"Just  for  a  minute,  —  I  promise," 
chimed  in  the  Millstone ;  "  we  may  find 
my  cousin  in  here,"  she  added.  That 
possibility  had  n't  occurred  to  Beverly  ;  it 
was  quite  likely  that  Billy  would  be  there 
at  that  hour.  So  he  set  his  teeth  and 
went  up  the  steps.  Freddy  passed  them 
before  the  big,  white-gloved  policeman  at 
the  door,  and  they  pushed  through  the 
crowd  in  the  vestibule.  After  a  parting 
flutter  of  the  eyelids  at  Freddy,  Billy's 
cousin  looked  up  at  Beverly  in  fond  dis 
approval. 

"  Naughty,  naughty,"  she  said. 

The  crush  in  the  theatre  of  the  Pud 
ding  was  appalling  on  so  warm  an  after 
noon.  But  Beverly  surveyed  it  with  an 
exultant  smile.  Once  separated  from 
Billy's  cousin  in  that  jam  of  people, 
escape  would  be  easy,  pursuit  impossible. 


THE    CLASS    DAY   IDYL        319 

cc  Now  follow  me,"  he  commanded, 
dexterously  wriggling  away  from  the  arm 
that  sought  his.  He  meant  to  lead 
the  Millstone  to  the  corner  of  the  room 
farthest  away  from  the  exit,  and  there, 
among  the  palms  surrounding  the  or 
chestra,  cc  wander "  her  like  a  cat  in  a 
strange  wood. 

"  If  you  will  be  so  good  as  to  stand 
here,"  he  suggested,  when  they  had  fought 
their  way  to  the  other  end  of  the  room, 
"  I  '11  look  for  Fields.  It  may  take  me 
some  time,  there  Js  such  a  crowd."  He 
almost  softened  toward  her  for  an  instant, 
he  was  so  elated  at  the  thought  of  leaving 
her  there  forever  in  the  exotic  bushes,  — 
like  Ruth  "  in  tears  amid  the  alien 
corn/'  Then  he  returned  her  red  fan, 
and  once  more  became  part  of  the  crowd. 
He  loved  the  crowd  now  as  he  had  hated 
it  before;  it  was  a  friendly,  favouring, 
protecting  crowd,  —  a  crowd  that  ren 
dered  his  movements  invisible,  a  crowd 
through  which  large,  opacous  bodies  in 
black  satin  could  attain  no  velocity. 
Beverly  made  a  conscientious  search  for 
Billy.  He  struggled  around  the  theatre, 
inspected  the  piazza  and  the  tent  and  the 


320  HARVARD    EPISODES 

front  rooms,  and  finally  went  upstairs  to 
the  library.  But  Billy  was  chatting  in 
none  of  the  little  alcove  nooks,  made 
cosey  for  the  occasion  with  a  prodigal  dis 
play  of  Turkish  rugs,  and  Beverly  de 
scended  the  stairs  to  the  exit  with  a  light 
heart. 

The  Millstone,  dishevelled,  apoplectic, 
and  breathing  hard,  was  waiting  for  him  at 
the  door. 

"  I  grew  faint  and  sought  air/'  she  ex 
plained.  "  Do  you  know  what  to  do 
when  a  lady  faints  ? "  she  went  on,  fan 
ning  nervously. 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Beverly,  grimly ;  "I 
think  I  know  what  I  should  do  if  you 
fainted." 

"  You  're  giving  me  a  very  happy  day," 
she  murmured. 

"It  is  a  memorable  one  for  me,"  he  an 
swered  savagely. 

They  went  out  and  on  toward  Claverly. 
If  every  man  Beverly  knew  in  college  had 
arranged  to  meet  him  on  Holyoke  Street 
at  that  hour,  Beverly  would  not  have  had 
to  take  off  his  hat  many  more  times  than 
he  did.  He  bowed  gravely,  and  had  to 
hang  on  to  himself  to  keep  from  calling 


THE   CLASS   DAY   IDYL 


321 


out  as    every    new   group    of  wondering 
faces  approached :  — 

"This  woman  doesn't  belong  to  me; 
I  never  saw  her  before,  and  I  hate  her." 

There  were  little  knots  of  men  talk 
ing  on  the  piazzas  of  the  clubs  on 
Mount  Auburn  Street  when  he  turned 
the  corner.  Out  of  the  tail  of  his 
eye,  he  could  see  the  agitation  that 
seized  them  as  he  and  the  Millstone 
came  into  view.  Then  he  heard  windows 
opening  upstairs  and  down,  and  knew, 
without  turning  around,  that  from  every 
window  craned  a  neck  or  two.  He  held 
his  breath,  and  prayed  to  Heaven  that  his 
companion  wouldn't  take  it  into  her  head 
to  stop  and  rest,  or  gaze  dreamily  up  and 
down  the  street,  or  slap  him  with  her  fan. 
Once  safely  inside  Claverly,  he  didn't 
wait  to  listen  to  her  exclamations  of  sur 
prise  and  admiration,  but  left  her  purring 
to  herself  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  and 
dashed  up  to  Billy's  room.  Billy  was  n't 
there,  but  his  door  was  unlatched  and  his 
room  strewn  with  garments.  His  cap 
and  gown  were  hanging  over  the  back  of 
a  chair.  Billy  was  somewhere  in  the 
building,  probably  in  the  tank,  as  unsus- 

21 


322  HARVARD    EPISODES 

picious  of  impending  catastrophe  as  a 
playful  dolphin.  So  Beverly  hurried 
down  the  back  stairs  to  the  tank.  As  he 
opened  the  door,  Billy,  lying  on  his  back 
on  the  marble  ledge,  shot  suddenly  into 
view  like  a  long  white  projectile. 

"  I  've  invented  a  new  game,"  he  gasped ; 
"you  make  the  marble  all  wet,  and  lie 
on  your  back  with  your  feet  against  the 
wall,  and  then  give  yourself  a  push  and  — 
zip  !  You  could  go  miles  if  there  was  n't 
a  partition.  But  you  have  to  lift  up 
when  you  get  to  this  crack,  or  you  '11  tear 
your  shoulder-blades  out  by  the  roots. 
Now  watch  me  — " 

"  Shut  up,  Billy, and  listen;  your  cousin 
is  out  here  in  the  hall  waiting  for  you." 
Beverly  mopped  his  forehead. 

"  My  cousin  ?  "  Billy  struggled  to  his 
feet. 

"Yes,  your  cousin,  —  a  lady.  Now 
hurry  up  and  get  dry.  I  Ve  got  to  go. 
She  's  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs.  No,  I  'm 
not  fooling,  I  swear  to  God  I  'm  not.  It's 
the  cousin  you  invited  to  Beck." 

"  Wait,  wait,  don't  leave  me,  man. 
It'll  take  me  hours  to  dress/'^said  Billy, 
piteously,  dabbing  himself  with  a  bath 


THE    CLASS   DAY    IDYL 


323 


towel.  "  I  have  n't  any  cousin  ;  I  never 
invited  one  to  Beck  ;  my  family  is  away 
—  they're  abroad.  I  don't  know  what 
you  're  talking  about,"  he  went  on.  But 
he  continued  to  dry  himself  frantically 
nevertheless. 

"  I  'm  simply  telling  you  what  I 
know,"  answered  Beverly,  calmly.  "  A 
person,  female,  aged  —  say  forty-five;  of 
abundant  tonnage  and  affable  manners, 
would  like  to  meet  blond  gentleman 
named  Fields  about  to  graduate  from 
Harvard;  object,  a  family  reunion.  Oh, 
never  mind  your  hair.  Here,  put  on  your 
wrapper  and  come  on."  He  helped  Billy, 
half  dry,  with  his  hair  dripping  stringily 
over  his  eyes,  into  a  striped  blanket  cover 
ing,  and  pushed  him  gently  into  the  hall. 

The  Millstone,  who  had  been  sauntering 
up  and  down  the  corridors  in  Beverly's 
absence,  received  them  as  they  emerged. 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  and  peered  at  them 
over  the  rim  of  her  circular  fan. 

"Allow  me  to  present  your  cousin," 
said  Beverly,  gravely. 

"  Cousin  Marguerite,"  simpered  the 
Millstone.  "Can  this  be  the  little  boy  I 
used  to  know? "she  continued,  holding 


324  HARVARD   EPISODES 

out  her  hand.  "  You  used  to  wear 
knickerbockers."  Billy  drew  the  drapery 
of  his  striped  blanket  more  closely  about 
him.  Shaking  hands  was  quite  out  of 
the  question.  "  Dear  me,  how  you  've 
changed." 

"  I  'm  very  glad  to  see  you,"  gasped 
Billy.  "I  —  I  wish  I  had  my  clothes  on. 
If  you  '11  just  wait  with  Mr.  Beverly  a 
minute — "  he  turned  to  Beverly.  "You  're 
not  in  a  hurry,  are  you  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  am,"  said  the  other,  frankly. 
"  I  have  to  go  to  my  room  and  then  catch 
a  train."  Billy  gave  him  the  look  of  an 
offended  water-spaniel. 

"If  I  could  rest  somewhere  until  you 
come,"  suggested  Cousin  Marguerite. 

"  Could  n't  you  take  her  to  your  room, 
if  you  're  going  there  anyhow  ? "  pleaded 
Billy,  with  a  tragic  "  I  '11-do-something-for- 
you-some-day "  expression.  "If  you're 
going  there  anyhow,"  he  repeated.  And 
once  more  Beverly  took  up  his  burden 
and  set  out. 

He  went  to  Beck  by  back  streets ;  and 
he  walked  as  fast  as  he  possibly  could, 
because  it  was  hot  and  dusty  —  there  were 
no  sidewalks  and  no  shade  —  and  he 


THE   CLASS   DAY   IDYL        325 

wished  to  give  Cousin  Marguerite  pain. 
He  didn't  actually  want  to  kill  her,  he 
told  himself,  and  marvelled,  as  he  did  so, 
at  his  own  sweetness  of  disposition.  But 
he  hoped  to  succeed  in  disabling  her  in 
some  way,  by  the  time  they  reached  his 
room,  "give  her  a  headache  or  break 
something,"  so  that  she  could  n't  go  to 
the  Tree,  or  to  the  Beck  spread,  or  to 
Memorial  Hall.  For  he  felt  that  other 
wise  she  would  go  to  them  all,  and  he 
would,  for  some  hideous  reason  he  couldn't 
then  foresee,  have  to  escort  her.  So  he 
tore  along,  with  Cousin  Marguerite  pant 
ing  hoarsely  at  his  elbow,  until  her  shoes 
became  untied,  and  he  had  to  kneel  in  the 
dust  at  her  feet.  He  tied  them  up  again  — 
with  three  hard,  vicious  knots  in  each,  and 
hurried  on.  Every  time  she  placed  a  re 
straining  hand  on  his  arm,  he  drew  out 
his  watch,  showed  it  to  her  silently,  and 
then  remarked,  "  my  train."  He  dragged 
her  past  Plympton  Street,  around  by  Bow 
Street,  up  the  little  hill  back  of  Quincy, 
across  to  Beck,  up  the  stairs  two  at  a  time 
and  into  his  room,  where  she  fell  exhausted 
on  his  divan. 

"  Now  I  am  going  to  leave  you,"  he 


326  HARVARD    EPISODES 

announced,  triumphantly.  She  motioned 
to  him  feebly  with  her  hand,  and  opened 
her  mouth  as  if  to  speak. 

"  You  just  ought  to  see  my  room  at 
home,"  she  whispered,  breathlessly.  "  It 's 
a  perfect  bower  of  crimson."  But  Beverly 
did  n't  wait  to  hear  about  it.  He  ran  out, 
slamming  the  door  behind  him,  and  never 
stopped  nor  looked  behind  until  he 
reached  the  club,  where  he  called  for  the 
longest,  coldest  drink  the  steward  could 
make. 

"  I  shall  never,  never,  see  that  woman 
again,"  he  said.  But  he  did. 

The  club  was  deserted  except  for 
Lauriston,  who  did  n't  really  belong  there. 
Lauriston  was  asleep  on  a  divan.  He  had 
a  wisp  of  pink  mosquito  netting  in  his 
button-hole,  and  when  Beverly  roused 
him,  he  was  unable  to  tell  where  every  one 
had  gone  to  so  suddenly.  He  blinked 
a  moment  in  the  light,  as  if  he  did  n't  even 
know  where  he  was  himself,  and  then  went 
to  sleep  again.  He  was,  as  Beverly  said, 
"unfit  for  publication." 

Just  as  Beverly  became  comfortably 
settled  with  a  gin  fizz  on  a  small  table  in 
front  of  him,  and  a  palm-leaf  fan  in  his 


THE   CLASS    DAY    IDYL        327 

hand,  Billy,  in  cap  and  gown,  fluttered 
into  the  club. 

"  Awfully  good  of  you  to  take  my  cousin 
down  to  your  room,"  he  said,  nervously. 
He  knew  with  what  joy  Beverly  must 
have  escorted  her,  although  he  could  n't 
very  well  allude  to  it. 

"  Don't  mention  it  —  charming  woman 
—  charming/'  murmured  Beverly,  politely. 

"  I  'm  sure  I  don't  know  who  she 
can  be,"  went  on  Billy ;  "  unless  she  was 
on  the  list  of  people  my  mother  sent  me 
to  invite.  I  know  I  never  asked  her. 
Are  you  walking  down  that  way  ? "  he 
ventured,  casually.  Somehow  or  other, 
Cousin  Marguerite  seemed  to  him  to 
belong  as  much  to  Beverly  as  to  him 
self. 

"Certainly  not,"  answered  the  other, 
with  decision.  "  I  shall  sit  here  until  it's 
time  to  catch  the  midnight  train." 

"  And  not  go  to  the  Tree  or  Beck  or 
the  Yard  in  the  evening? " 

"  I  have  spoken,"  said  Beverly,  placidly. 

"  Well,  then,  good-bye."  Billy  held  out 
his  hand,  "  And  don't  forget  you  're  coming 
to  us  on  the  tenth."  He  looked  troubled, 
and  left  reluctantly  to  find  his  cousin. 


328  HARVARD    EPISODES 

Beverly,  true  to  his  word,  sat  there  fan 
ning  himself,  and  listening  to  the  faint 
music  of  the  band  in  the  Yard,  all  the  after 
noon.  From  time  to  time,  men  dashed 
in  to  leave  or  get  tickets,  to  eat  some 
thing,  or  to  find  some  one  who  never  was 
there.  They  always  said  :  — 

"You  here  on  Class  Day,  Beverly?  I 
thought  you  were  n't  going  to  stay." 
Then  they  would  rush  out  into  the  heat 
again  to  find  their  families  and  take  them 
to  the  Tree.  Occasionally  fellows  brought 
their  fathers  in  to  see  the  club  and  rest 
awhile.  It  amused  Beverly  to  watch  the 
"  infants "  do  the  honours.  Prescott 
—  six  feet  two  —  saying,  "What '11  you 
have,  Papa  ?  "  to  a  nice,  little,  old  bald- 
headed  thing,  was  almost  as  irresistible  as 
Prescott  pere,  when  he  patted  his  head  with 
his  handkerchief  and  replied,  apologeti 
cally  :  — 

"  The  day  has  been  so  fatiguing,  and 
we  have  so  much  more  to  do  later  on,  that 
I  think  I  should  like  a  little,  a  very  little, 
rye  whiskey  and  water." 

Sears  Wolcott,  followed  by  an  astonish 
ingly  young-looking  gentleman  who  might 
have  been  Sears's  older  brother,  if  he 


THE   CLASS   DAY   IDYL        329 

hadn't  happened  to  be  his  father,  was 
characteristic  when  he  remarked  indiffer 
ently  :  — 

"  I  suppose  you  want  something  to 
drink  ?  " 

Mr.  Wolcott's  answer  struck  Beverly 
as  being  equally  in  character  :  — 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  with  a  twinkle,  "  give  me 
some  champagne  in  a  long  glass  with  ice, 
if  you  think  you  can  afford  it ;  I  can't." 

No  one  stayed  long,  and  by  six  o'clock 
the  club,  except  for  Beverly  and  the  sleep 
ing  Lauriston,  was  again  deserted.  When 
the  steward  came  in  to  draw  the  curtains 
and  turn  on  the  lights,  Lauriston  awoke 
and  asked  vaguely  if  it  was  time  to  go  to 
Beck. 

"  I  suppose  so,"  answered  Beverly. 
"  Everybody  seems  to  have  gone  some 
where." 

"  Then  I  must  go  too,"  mused  Lauris 
ton,  fumbling  sleepily  at  his  disordered 
necktie,  and  making  a  feeble  attempt  to 
smooth  his  hair. 

"  Oh,  I  would  n't  run  away  and  leave 
me,"  suggested  Beverly,  "  I  'm  all  alone." 
He  was  n't  in  the  least  anxious  for  Lauris- 
ton's  society,  but  for  the  public  good  he 


330  HARVARD   EPISODES 

was  willing  to  endure  it.  Lauriston's  nap 
had  n't  proved  as  beneficial  as  it  might 
have ;  the  fellow  was  in  no  condition  to 
go  to  Beck  and  talk  to  people. 

"  Sorry,  old  man.  Can't  stay.  Got  to 
find  my  mothers  and  sisters,  and  give  them 
JMorial  tickets."  He  searched  his  pockets, 
and  drew  out  an  envelope.  Then  he  arose 
laboriously  from  the  divan,  and,  standing 
before  Beverly,  said  something  that  sounded 
like  "  Delookawrite."  Beverly  adjusted 
his  glasses  :  — 

"  No,  candidly,  you  don't  look  all 
right,"  he  declared,  "  and  if  you  're  going 
out  to  hunt  for  your  mother  and  sisters,  I 
sincerely  trust  you  won't  find  them." 
Lauriston  stared  stupidly  at  the  tickets  in 
his  hand, 

"  Got  to  havvem.  Promised,"  he 
muttered.  Beverly  gently  extracted  the 
tickets  from  his  fingers. 

"  I  '11  see  that  they  get  them,"  he  said. 
He  had  some  difficulty  in  persuading 
Lauriston  that  he  knew  Mrs.  Lauriston 
intimately,  and  would  have  no  trouble  in 
finding  her  ;  for  the  fellow  insisted  that  his 
mother  was  a  most  reserved  woman  whom 
very  few  people  knew  intimately. 


THE    CLASS    DAY   IDYL        331 

"  She 's  a  reserved  woman  without  a 
parasol,"  he  said  by  way  of  identification, 
when  he  finally  allowed  Beverly  to  depart 
with  the  tickets. 

The  crowd  on  the  lawn  at  Beck  was  less 
objectionable  to  Beverly,  only  because  it  was 
unhoused.  He  stopped  at  the  top  of  the 
steps  leading  down  to  the  little  enclosure 
packed  with  white  frocks  and  the  startling 
flora  and  fauna  of  summer  millinery.  It 
was  n't  easy  to  recognise  any  one  in  the 
soft  half  light  of  the  lanterns  swinging  in 
long  festoons  overhead ;  and  it  took  him 
some  time  to  discover  Mrs.  Lauriston 
and  the  girls  seated  around  a  table 
very  near  him  at  the  foot  of  the  steps  on 
which  he  was  standing.  They  had  seen 
him  the  moment  he  appeared.  The  Mill 
stone,  sitting  just  behind  them  at  the  next 
table,  with  two  freshmen,  —  distant  cousins 
of  Billy's,  —  also  saw  him. 

"  So  you  decided  not  to  catch  the  train," 
said  Mrs.  Lauriston  when  Beverly  went 
down  to  her. 

"  It 's  harder  to  tear  one's  self  away 
from  Class  Day  than  I  thought,"  he 
said,  feelingly,  for  he  had  just  caught 
sight  of  Cousin  Marguerite.  But  he 


332  HARVARD   EPISODES 

made  Mrs.  Lauriston  a  nice  little  bow  as 
he  spoke. 

"  That 's  very  pretty,"  the  lady  smiled 
up  at  him  ;  "  but  I  should  remember  it 
longer  if  we  'd  seen  anything  of  you  all 
day."  Beverly  was  about  to  reply  with  the 
least  inane  of  the  two  inanities  that  came 
into  his  mind  when  one  of  Cousin  Mar 
guerite's  freshmen  stood  up  and  delivered  a 
message  in  a  low  tone. 

"  Tell  her  I  'm  very  sorry,  but  I  can't," 
answered  Beverly,  changing  his  position 
to  one  that  defied  the  laws  of  optics  to 
make  his  eyes  meet  those  of  the  Mill 
stone.  The  freshman,  he  noticed,  passed 
rapidly  on  up  the  steps  and  out  of  Beck. 
Beverly  went  on  talking  to  Mrs.  Lauriston. 
He  gave  her  the  tickets,  and  explained 
her  son's  failure  to  appear  as  glibly  as  he 
could  ;  but  he  was  filled  with  horrid  appre 
hensions, —  Cousin  Marguerite's  penetrat 
ing  voice  rose  and  fell  coquettishly  behind 
him  without  a  pause,  —  and  he  became 
noticeably  ill  at  ease.  When,  in  a  very 
few  minutes,  he  heard  the  Millstone  call 
his  own  name  with  all  the  sickening  lan 
guor  and  affectation  its  three  syllables 
could  carry,  he  ignored  the  summons,  and 


THE   CLASS   DAY   IDYL        333 

felt  himself  growing  rigid  with  anger. 
She  called  him  again,  a  trifle  louder 
this  time  —  and  pronounced  the  word 
"  Bevaleh." 

"  Some  one  wishes  to  speak  to  you," 
said  Mrs.  Lauriston.  Beverly  did  n't  turn. 
"It's  the  lady  you  were  with  at  the 
Pudding ;  she  's  sitting  just  behind  you, 
and  has  called  you  twice.  Don't  let  me 
keep  you."  Beverly  turned  and  bowed 

stiffly. 

"  Mauvais  sujet"  said  Cousin  Mar 
guerite.  Mrs.  Lauriston  and  the  girls 
glanced  at  her  involuntarily.  Beverly  left 
them  abruptly  and  stood  near  the^  Mill 
stone.  If  she  would  insist  on  talking  to 
him,  he  preferred  her  playful  sallies  to  be 
inaudible  to  the  whole  of  Boston  and  its 
adjacent  suburbs.  As  she  turned  to  tap 
the  vacant  chair  on  her  left  invitingly  with 
her  red  fan,  the  second  freshman  stole 
craftily  away. 

"  Are  you  waiting  for  Billy  ? "  asked 
Beverly  in  a  tone  that  just  escaped  being 
savage. 

"  I  was  n't  waiting  for  Billy,"  she  an 
swered.  Her  voice  was  liquid  with  sub 
tle  meaning.  "  I  sent  him  away,  —  dear 


334  HARVARD    EPISODES 

Billy.  I  'm  to  meet  him  at  Memorial  Hall 
in  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  He  hesitated  to 
leave  me  alone  and  introduced  two  cousins 
of  his  —  sweet  boys.  Then  I  drove  him 
off.  And  now  you  come ;  kismet,  I 
suppose." 

"  I  came  because  you  called  me/'  said 
Beverly,  bluntly.  "Thank  you,  no,  I 
prefer  to  stand  ;  I  can  only  stay  a  mo 
ment."  He  could  n't  bring  himself  to 
the  point  of  being  deliberately  rude  to  any 
woman, —  much  less  to  a  cousin  of  Billy's. 
But  he  was  very  much  annoyed  at  this 
fatuous  bore,  and  could  n't  help  showing 
it.  His  manner  was  decidedly  icy. 
Whether  the  Millstone  realised  that  he 
was  thoroughly  in  earnest  when  he  de 
clared  he  could  n't  stay,  or  whether  Class 
Day  had  really  been  too  much  for  her, 
Beverly  could  n't  make  up  his  mind  until 
afterwards  ;  at  any  rate  Cousin  Marguerite 
suddenly  let  fall  her  fan,  gave  a  little  gasp, 
and  proceeded  to  faint.  Beverly  sprang 
forward  to  prevent  the  rickety  chair  on 
which  she  sat  from  upsetting,  and,  this 
done,  he  looked  helplessly  about,  as  if  for 
suggestions.  He  had  a  hazy  idea  that  he 
ought  to  do  something  to  her  hands  and 


THE   CLASS   DAY    IDYL        335 

feet,  and  pour  water  down  the  front  of 
her  dress  ;  he  had  once  seen  that  done 
with  success.  But  Cousin  Marguerite's 
feet  were  down  in  the  grass  under  the 
table  somewhere  ;  her  hands  too  seemed 
rather  inaccessible,  —  she  had  fallen  for 
ward  and  hidden  them.  If  he  should 
leave  her  to  go  for  a  glass  of  water,  she 
would  undoubtedly  slide  off  her  chair  and 
get  walked  on.  In  his  distress,  Beverly 
called  to  Mrs.  Lauriston.  Mrs.  Lauriston 
brought  some  apollinaris  from  her  table, 
held  it  to  the  Millstone's  lips,  and  dabbed 
it  on  her  temples  with  a  handkerchief. 

"  Ought  n't  I  —  ought  n't  you  to  c  loosen 
something '  ?  "  asked  Beverly,  giving  the 
crimson  necktie  a  wrench.  Cousin  Mar 
guerite's  eyelids  fluttered  with  returning 
life.  All  she  needed  was  air,  she  said, 
looking  about  her  in  bewilderment. 

"  If  Mr.  Beverly  will  kindly  take  me 
to  the  street  —  to  the  open  —  How  very 
stupid  of  me ;  I  have  n't  done  it  since  I 
was  a  girl,"  she  added.  So  Beverly  thanked 
Mrs.  Lauriston  hastily,  and  left  the  Beck 
spread  with  Cousin  Marguerite  on  his 
arm.  Outside  she  leaned  against  the  great 
red  letter-box  on  the  corner,  gasped  a 


336  HARVARD    EPISODES 

little,  arranged  her  necktie  and  dried  her 
temples.  Then  she  passed  her  arm  through 
Beverly's  again  and  started  for  Memorial 
—  to  find  Billy.  Consciousness  had  re 
turned,  but  it  had  not  brought  to  the  Mill 
stone  strength  enough  to  enable  her  to 
walk  alone.  There  was  simply  no  pre 
text  on  which  Beverly  could  leave  Billy's 
cousin  now.  For  although  he  was  con 
vinced  that  her  indisposition  was  what  he 
called  "  a  cheap  bluff  at  dying,"  he  could  n't 
very  well  act  on  that  assumption.  He 
accepted  the  fact  that  he  would  have  to 
stay  by  her,  maddening  as  she  was,  until 
they  found  Billy. 

She  was  maddening.  She  insisted  on 
going  to  Memorial  by  way  of  the  Yard, 
and  loitered  shamelessly  on  the  way  — 
she  said  she  felt  strangely  faint  —  to 
enjoy  the  crowd,  the  music,  and  the 
glow  of  the  lanterns  among  the  elms. 
She  watched  the  dancing  at  Memorial 
until  Beverly  wondered  audibly  why  Billy 
did  n't  come ;  at  which  she  announced 
blandly  :  — 

"  He  said  he  would  meet  me  at  the 
steps  —  right  near  the  mandolins  and 
banjos.  I  have  n't  seen  any,  have  you  ?  " 


THE   CLASS   DAY   IDYL        337 

The  mandolins  and  banjos  were,  of 
course,  on  the  steps  of  the  Law  School, 
as  Cousin  Marguerite  very  well  knew. 

"  I  wish  you  had  told  me  that  sooner," 
said  Beverly,  controlling  himself.  "  Billy 
has  probably  tired  of  waiting  and  gone 
away." 

"  Oh,  well  —  "  she  sighed.  Ever  since 
the  two  had  left  Beck,  the  Millstone  had 
hovered  shrewdly  between  apoplexy  and 
intense  enjoyment  of  everything  she  saw  ; 
she  relied  on  the  one  to  disarm  criticism 
of  the  other.  Billy  was  n't  in  front  of  the 
Law  School ;  but  his  cousin  thought  it  best 
to  wait  a  few  minutes  longer  for  him, 
besides,  the  Mandolin  Club  was  just  about 
to  play.  She  closed  her  eyes  when  the 
music  began  —  the  piece  was  a  Spanish 
something  or  other  through  which  a  tam 
bourine  shivered  at  intervals  —  and  clung 
to  Beverly's  arm. 

"The  Italians  are  so  passionate,"  she 
murmured  at  the  end. 

cc  Billy  is  n't  coming,"  said  Beverly. 

cc  I  'm  afraid  we  've  missed  him,"  she 
assented. 

"  And  the  evening  is  almost  over ; 
you  've  seen  everything,"  Beverly  went 


338  HARVARD    EPISODES 


on.     "  It  is  over,"  he  added  ^ 
drop  of  rain  had  fallen  on  his  hand. 

"  Class  Day  is  dead ;  the  angels  weep," 
mused  Cousin  Marguerite,  sentimentally. 
"  c  I  warmed  both  hands  before  the  fire  of 
life.  It  sinks  — ' 

"  And  are  you  'ready  to  depart '  ?  "  asked 
Beverly,  eagerly ;  Cousin  Marguerite  had 
shied  at  the  really  vital  clause  of  the 
quotation. 

"  c  Come,  chaos  —  I  have  seen  the 
best,'  "  was  her  answer. 

But  Beverly  did  n't  consider  that  he 
had  seen  the  best,  until  the  bridge  car  that 
was  to  bear  away  Cousin  Marguerite  ap 
peared  in  Harvard  Square.  He  would 
have  rushed  off — the  rain  had  begun  in 
earnest  —  as  soon  as  his  companion  of  the 
afternoon  and  evening  was  seated,  had  she 
not  extended  her  plump  hand  for  a  last, 
lingering  pressure. 

"  Good-bye,"  she  said,  softly.  "  There 
are  some  things  one  cannot  express ; 
they  are  here,"  she  touched  her  chest 
lightly  with  the  finger-tips  of  her  left  hand. 
"  Good-bye.  Oh,  —  I  forgot  to  tell  you," 
she  added  abruptly,  in  another  tone ;  "  Billy 
and  I  discovered  that  we  don't  spell  our 


THE   CLASS   DAY   IDYL        339 

names  the  same  way.  We  spell  ours  with 
an  c  e.'  We  found  it  out  just  after  he  had 
refreshed  me  at  Beck  Hall  and  introduced 
those  two  sweet  boys.  So  you  see,  Billy 
is  more  than  a  cousin;  he  is  a  friend." 

The  Millstone's  good-bye  smile  was  an 
inscrutable  performance,  in  which  Beverly 
thought  he  detected  pity,  amusement,  and 
a  sort  of  devilish  self-satisfaction.  He 
turned,  without  a  word,  to  find  Billy. 


THE  END 


THIS  BOOK  IS  PRINTED  BY  JOHN  WILSON 
AND  SON  CAMBRIDGE  MASSACHUSETTS 
DURING  DECEMBER  1897 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below, 
or  on  the  date  to  which  renewed.  Renewals  only 

Tel.  No.  642-3405 

Renewals  may  be  made  4  days  priod  to  date  due. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


DEC  2  2  1970*7 


MAY  2  2  1980 


MAY 


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AUTO  DISC, 


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MAY  U 


CIRCULATION 


LD21A-60m-8,'70 
(N8837slO)476—  A-32 


TT   .Generr" 
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